Patience
by TorisLaurinaitis96
Summary: Widowers Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland find each other by complete coincidence. Feeling that they are the only ones who truly understand each other, they begin to fall in love just as life throws more storms their way. (FrUK/FACE Family) (Rated T for occasional swearing.)
1. Chapter 1

_If there are foreign words in the text that you do not recognize, check the bottom, I should have them all translated!_

* * *

_Patience_

_..._

_France_

_..._

Francis ran through the thick smoke that stung his eyes and burned his lungs. He held Joanne's hand in his so they wouldn't get lost from each other. Dizziness hit hard. He stumbled and grabbed the wall on his right to support himself, bent over and coughed so hard it shook his whole body. Joanne pulled him off the wall and pushed him further down the narrow hallway. Dizziness came back even harder. The hallway was spinning and the floor rushed up to meet him. He could hear nothing but the ringing in his ears, his coughs became weak, and his world began to fade. He tried to focus on Joanne and the tired look on her face, trying to stay awake. Black spots blocked his vision, his eyelids became too heavy to keep open, and he felt his body relax as he slipped into unconsciousness...

The light was so bright it hurt Francis' eyes. The shadows set in, and he realized that he was in a room he didn't recognize. His head felt foggy, and is throat felt like he had drank boiling water. Fear ran through him, he didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten there.

"_Hola_."

Francis looked to his left, and he saw his brother, Antonio sitting at his side with a worried and sad expression, "How are you feeling?"

Francis just looked at him for a moment. Nothing made sense. Where was he? How did he get here? Why was his brother here when he should be in Spain? "Where am I?" Francis tried to speak clearly, but his voice came out as a raspy whisper, "What are you doing here?"

Antonio took a second to answer as he took a deep breath and sighed, "You are in the hospital."

Francis stared at his brother in confusion. He searched his memory for a possible explanation, but his mind was still too foggy, "Why? What-" Francis broke off and went into a short coughing fit that made him dizzy.

"Take it easy, for God's sake... I will explain." Antonio looked down at his feet, sighed, and took another deep breath, "There was a fire in your apartment building. Do you remember that?"

Francis took another moment to try and remember as Antonio waited patiently. Francis could faintly remember a fire alarm scaring him out of his sleep, but that was all he had.

"Ou-" Sharp pain struck in his throat as he tried to speak so he just nodded.

Antonio shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "Okay...Um..." Antonio's face twisted as he tried choose his words carefully. "...You and Joanne were both found in the building..." Antonio took a quivering sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, "You were both found… Not breathing and… Without a pulse..."

Francis was confused. How could have he been dead if he was alive now? Then it hit him. _Joanne_. Francis felt dizzy again and fear rose in his chest as Antonio continued, "The paramedics had to revive you..." Antonio put his head in his hand, "Twice..." He looked up, avoiding looking Francis in the eye. "But, they couldn't...They weren't able to revive Joanne...She was pronounced dead at the scene."

Francis' world stopped, his heart sunk, and he stared at the ceiling. This is not what he imagined. His world should be shattering, he should be crying, screaming, but none of this seemed real enough.

"_Hermano_-" Francis jumped at Antonio's voice, he had forgotten that his brother was there, "I will help you through this. I own my own business, and can spare an entire month, and I'll stay here as long as you need me too, I'll sell the cafe in Spain and get a job here in France if I have to." Antonio seemed to wait for an answer, but when he didn't get one, he continued, "Feliciano and Lovino are on their way here, they will be here in a few hours, they'll be here for you too. Everything will be alright, _Si?"_

Francis didn't know what to say, finally he just settled on, "_Oui_."

...

_Meanwhile in England..._

...

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at the preschool. Finally, after gaining the motivation, he got out of his car and walked inside the school. He sighed as he walked through the door and looked to the front desk lady, Katya, who was smiling at him, "Hello, Mr. Kirkland! How are you?"

Arthur plastered on a smile and began to write his signature on the _'Sign in'_ sheet, "Oh, I'm doing well. You?"

"Couldn't be better!" Katya replied with a bright smile on her lips. Arthur flashed her another smile on his way into the school hallway.

Arthur stood in front of the classroom doorway, once again gaining motivation. He sighed and walked through the door. He looked over to the desk by the door just in time for Mr. Kohler to pick up his head from his work. He smiled, stood, and walked around his his desk. "Afternoon, Mr. Kirkland, how are you?"

Arthur put on another fake smile. "Oh, I'm doing well. You?"

Mr. Kohler picked up a mug of coffee off of his desk and rolled his eyes, "Urg, these kids tire me out. How's high school? I don't know how you and Lukas deal with it. Sure, four-year-olds are exasperating, but you have to deal with teenagers and their... _Hormones_." Mr. Kohler shivered at the last word and laughed lightly. Arthur forced himself to chuckle.

Mr. Kohler scanned the room before his eyes settled on the far left corner, "Alfred! Your father's here!" Alfred looked up, finished a short conversation with his friend, and ran to get his backpack.

Arthur had been worried about Alfred's first year, but Alfred had nothing but good things to say about the school, his friends, and teacher. Arthur sighed and turned to Mr. Kohler, "How is Alfred doing, anyway?"

Mr. Kohler sipped his coffee, "Oh, he's great. I have to tell him to quiet down from time to time, but besides that, he hasn't caused any trouble."

Arthur nodded, truthfully, he didn't expect Alfred to get into much trouble, "Well, he's certainly is chatty at home, I didn't expect any different here."

Alfred ran up with his nearly empty backpack and a piece of paper, "Daddy! Daddy! Look what I colored!" Alfred held out the paper so Arthur could see it. It had a cartoon styled airplane on it colored red, white, and blue, the three colors that Alfred was, for some reason, obsessed with.

Once again, Arthur plastered on that fake, empty smile and said, "That's very nice, Alfred. Now, why don't go and get your coat before you forget it like yesterday?"

"Okay!" Alfred ran off. These days, Alfred never walked, he only ran with eagerness to get somewhere and see everything. Arthur watched him as his mind drifted somewhere else.

"You okay, Mr. Kirkland?"

Mr. Kohler's voice snapped Arthur's mind back to reality, "Yes, I..." Arthur trailed off, sighed and gained courage to speak, "Well, I was just given grave news... A family matter. So, if Alfred misses a day or so in the near future, or I'm late to pick him up, or something or other, that's why."

Mr. Kohler's eyebrows raised, "Geez, I'm so sorry. I understand. Don't worry."

"Thank you."

Alfred ran up to them again with his jacket on, "Okay, I'm ready to go! Good bye, Mr. Kohler!"

Mr. Kohler smiled, "Bye, Alfred. I will see you tomorrow."

Alfred talked nonstop on the way home. Arthur desperately tried to concentrate on his son's words but he was so distracted.

"Hey, did you have the day off? Mama always picks me up."

Arthur gripped the steering wheel tighter, "Yes. I had the day off so I could go to your mother's doctor appointment with her."

"Oh." Alfred was silent for a moment, but his mind always seemed running too fast, and he had to say something, "You know that friend, Jett? Well, he talks funny."

"Many kids your age have speech problems, I'm sure he'll grow out of it."

"Like how I grew out of my shoes?"

The connections that Alfred made in his mind have been puzzling Arthur since his son could talk. "Um...Sure..." What else could he say?

When they had gotten home, Alfred immediately noticed the empty house, "Where's Mama?"

Arthur felt sick. He leaned against the closed door and sunk down to a sitting position. "Alfred, come here."

Alfred walked over and Arthur took the young boy's hands in his, "Some things are going to start changing."

Alfred tilted his head in confusion, "Changing? How? Why?"

Arthur closed his eyes briefly before continuing, "We went to the doctor's appointment, and it turns out that your mother... Is very sick."

Alfred looked surprised, "But she was fine this morning!"

Arthur took a deep breath, "Some people don't feel sick even when they are... It's hard to explain... But your mother will be living at the hospital for a while, and she will become very weak, and will loose her hair..." Arthur broke off, this was becoming increasingly painful to say.

Alfred stared at him, "She'll get better, right?"

The words where like daggers to his heart. Arthur tightened his grip on Alfred's hands slightly, gritted his teeth, and blinked away tears. "Your mother is very strong... I'm sure she'll be fine."

Alfred smiled, "How long until she feels good again?"

"It will be a while. But..." Arthur took a quivering sigh, "But, she'll be fine."

"Okay then," Alfred took his hands away, "I'm hungry, can I get a snack?"

Arthur thought he had more to say, but he couldn't think of anything else, "Yes, go ahead."

Alfred ran off and left Arthur sitting there at the door. He had promised himself that he wouldn't lie to his son, but how could he tell the truth?

_..._

_England, One Year Later..._

...

Francis looked at the small house with his hands on his hips. It looked even better than it did when he had picked it out. Francis so desperately wanted to move on, and perhaps moving somewhere new would help. It was a one story house with a basement and attic. It had a space on the right for a possible garden, and a long porch with room for decorations. It was simple and didn't look like much, but it looked welcoming and for the first time in a year, Francis had hope for a new life.

"Where the hell is Antonio?" Lovino said angrily as he picked up a box. "And are you gonna help move your shit, or are you gonna just stand there? I'm not a slave!"

Francis turned to his little brother, "Antonio got held up at work, and quit complaining, the boxes aren't even that heavy."

"I really like the house! It looks like it could be in a film!" Feliciano exclaimed.

"Yeah, nice and more expansive for me to visit! I have to drive all the way from Italy!"

Francis smiled sarcastically at Lovino, "Then don't visit."

Francis grabbed a box a headed into the house with Lovino following close behind. When Francis walked back out he noticed that Feliciano was talking to someone. Francis walked up to them a greeted, "_Bonjour!_ I mean, hello! Sorry."

The man that Feliciano was talking to tilted his head slightly. He was tall and muscular with slicked back blonde hair and bright blue eyes, "Oh, Hello." He said in a thick accent.

Feliciano smiled, "Francis, this is you next-door neighbor, Ludwig!"

Francis held out his hand, "It's pleasure to meet you, Ludwig!"

Ludwig took his hand firmly and shook it, "_Ja_, a pleasure to meet you too." Ludwig took away his hand, "Uh, I was wondering if you need a hand with the boxes, your friend here seemed to be having some trouble."

Lovino cut in as he walked up, "No, we don't need your help, Feliciano just has no strength, that's all.

Feliciano gasped, "What? I'm pretty strong! The box was just awkward, that's all! I didn't have a good grip!"

Lovino rolled his eyes, "Sure."

Francis laughed lightly, "These are my little twin brothers, Lovino and Feliciano."

Ludwig nodded at them, "Hello."

Feliciano smiled brightly, "Oh! Where are you from? You don't sound English!"

Lovino punched Feliciano in the arm, "Damnit! Be polite!"

Feliciano rubbed his arm where Lovino had hit him, "You're the one cursing!"

Ludwig waved his hand dismissively, and when he spoke, Francis quickly realized that he slipped much German into his English, "It's okay, _mein bruder und_ I moved here from Germany about a year _und_ a half ago. I'm still learning the place, but you need anything, knock on _mein_ door, I'll be glad to help. If I'm not here, I'm probably at work."

Feliciano leaned a little closer to Ludwig, "Oh! What work do you do?"

Ludwig shifted his weight nervously, "I'm a mechanic, I work with_ mein bruder_."

Feliciano giggled, "So you work outside with cars in a black tank-top and ripped jeans?"

There was a very short silence when Ludwig looked as if he didn't know what to say, but the silence was quickly broken when Lovino smacked Feliciano over the head, "What the hell kind of a question is that?"

Feliciano rubbed the back of his head, "It was just a question!"

Francis cut in before the conversation could get any more awkward, "Uh, thanks for offering help, but I think we're fine, and I'll be sure to ask if I need anything!"

Ludwig looked from Feliciano back to Francis, "Oh, don't worry about it," Ludwig turned to walk away, "_Und_ remember if you need anything, just knock on _mein_ door."

Ludwig walked up his driveway and into his house. There was a long silence between the three of them until Feliciano spoke, "Well, he was cute! You're so lucky you have him as a neighbor!"

Lovino let out an angry snort, "Let's just get this over with."

_..._

_Meanwhile..._

...

Alfred stormed up the porch steps and nearly slammed the door in Arthur's face behind him. Arthur walked through the door and closed it behind him. Alfred had no right to act this way, Arthur didn't deserve this disrespect. "Alfred!" He called out, his words stopping Alfred in the hallway, "What on earth has gotten into you?"

Alfred spun around yelling, "You said Mama was going to get better! Why is she worse every time I see her?"

"I told you it would take-"

Alfred cut him off, "It's been forever!"

Arthur took a quivering breath and tried to keep his composure but it didn't work. His hands began to shake, his knees felt weak, and tears ran down his cheeks, "Don't yell at me. Please, don't yell at me. This isn't my fault. I don't want this to happen. Please, oh God, please don't be mad at me. It's not my fault."

Alfred's eyes softened, he ran over, and hugged him around the waist, "I'm not mad at you, Daddy! I know you didn't make Mama sick! I'm sorry!"

Arthur knelt down and hugged Alfred back, "I'm so sorry this is happening, and I know you're frustrated, but I would make it all go away if I could. I want things to be normal too."

...

...

...

...

Translations:

Hola: (Spanish)- Hello

Hermano: (Spanish)- Brother

Oui: (French)- Yes

Bonjour: (French)-Hello

Ja: (German)- Yes

Mein: (German)- My

Bruder: (German)- Brother

Und: (German)- And

Other Notes:

One chapter in, and you already have two cameos!

Katya: Ukraine

Mr. Kohler: Denmark

Don't worry, you'll see Antonio, Lovino, Feliciano, and Ludwig in later chapters!

Ludwig also mentions his brother, you'll see him later too!


	2. Chapter 2

_..._

_Six Months Later_

...

Francis loved England, the people, his neighbors, his house, everything. He hadn't felt this great since before the fire. He still mourned Joanne, but he felt himself moving on, keeping her in good memory. Although, some nights he swore it was all denial. In a way, he kinda still expected her to come back. Just walk in, with that strange beat in her step, as if there was a song stuck in her head.

Joanne wasn't the only thing that he mourned. Around the time of her death, the two of them were trying for a child. Even though Joanne was not pregnant when she died, Francis was still missing the possibility of having a son or daughter. After months in England, he was considering adopting, and now dead set on it. He had found a local adoption agency, mailed them all the information they need to know, his job, income, family history, everything, and now he was holding profiles of some of the children that lived at the orphanage.

"This is a bad idea."

Francis' heart sunk at Antonio's words on the other side of the phone. "What? Experts say that I shouldn't make huge decisions until after the first year of a loss!"

Francis heard Antonio sigh, "I know, but that doesn't mean you can make every big decision possible afterwards! Maybe you should think this over."

"I've been thinking about raising a child since before Joanne passed away! First you don't want me to move, and now this? Where's the support?"

Antonio's voice came calmer this time, "I'm not trying to be an asshole, _Hermano_, I just worry, that's all."

Francis' frustration at his brother subsided. He could never stay angry at Antonio for long, because it didn't matter what they were fighting over, Antonio never meant any harm, "You don't have to worry about me, I'm much happier now. Besides, how can I go back on this decision after I've seen their profiles? They're all so sad! I have to help one of them!"

Antonio was silent for a moment, "Any favorites?" It seems that he had given up arguing.

"I actually think I'm set on one."

"Who?"

Francis picked up the folder laying on the table and opened it. The picture was of a poor four and a half year old boy, with longish, dirty blonde hair that had one, long curl in it. "Matthew." He said into the phone.

Antonio responded after a short silence, "There a reason or is this a vibe?"

"A bit of both. The poor guy comes from an abusive household, so sad, _oui?_"

"_Sí_."

Antonio still seemed to oppose Francis' decision, but Francis knew exactly what to say to change his mind: "Hey, you're gonna be an uncle."

Antonio's voice lit up, "_Uncle_ Antonio?...I guess I could get used to that..."

_..._

_Meanwhile..._

...

Arthur sat at the kitchen table, his mind somewhere else. Kate was in her last days... It was torture. Everything seemed hopeless, he felt so helpless, everything was out of control, and he just wanted it all to end before it got worse.

"Daddy?"

Arthur nearly jumped out if his chair at his son's voice, he forced himself to smile and chuckle, "Wow Alfred, you nearly gave me a heart-attack! What are you doing up?"

"Is there school today? I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up."

Arthur looked up at the clock and debated whether or not Alfred should go to school in case Kate was to pass away today. He closed his eyes and sighed, "Yes, Alfred, you are going to school today."

Arthur got out of his chair and went into the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, walked over to the cabinet and got a bowl, and stood there. He suddenly couldn't remember where the cereal was. He felt like crying. He couldn't do anything right. How the bloody hell was he supposed to be a single parent if he couldn't even remember where the fucking cereal was? Arthur shook his head to try and clear his mind. The cereal was in the cabinet next to where the bowls were. Arthur put the bowl of cereal in front of Alfred who sat at the table. He gave Alfred a spoon and began putting things away.

"Uh, Daddy, this is a fork."

Arthur turned around and saw his son holding up a fork. Bollocks. Why was it so hard to concentrate?

"Silly me." Arthur tried to sound playful, but his voice ended up sounding empty. He grabbed a spoon, handed it to Alfred, took the fork and put it back in the drawer.

Arthur sat down at the table across from Alfred. He put his head in his hands, so disappointed in himself. Why was it so hard to concentrate? Why was it so hard to get motivation? Why was he already mourning his wife's death if she wasn't dead yet? Before he knew it, Arthur's mind began to drift into the nothingness that seemed to come too easy.

"Daddy!"

Arthur snapped his head up at the alarm in Alfred's voice. He realized that he was now fully dressed and ready for school. "What? What's wrong?"

Alfred stared at him blankly, "I said your name like, five times, but you didn't answer."

Arthur faked an empty smile, "Sorry...I was... Thinking..."

"About what?"

"Oh, nothing." Arthur meant to lie so he wouldn't worry Alfred, but sadness hit him even harder when he realized how true his words where.

_..._

_The Next Day..._

...

Francis could barely contain his excitement. He stood in front of the orphanage with his heart racing. He was debating whether or not he should turn back. Perhaps Antonio was right. What if he wasn't ready for this? What if he couldn't do this by himself? He reminded himself that he would become a single parent if the was to follow through with this, which could be extremely hard. However, Matthew's profile had said that Matthew was timid and mild-mannered. Perhaps he was getting more nervous than needed.

Francis walked through the door and was greeted by the sound of a piano. He had been instructed to stay in the waiting area when he had talked to the agency over the phone, but his curiosity got the best of him as he wandered out into the hallway. He stopped at a doorway where the music was coming from. Inside he saw about ten kids gathered around a man playing the piano. The song was iconic, but Francis could never remember the names of all the classical songs.

"A prodigy isn't he?"

Francis looked over to see a short man with strange green eyes and long blonde hair that barely touched his shoulders. He stood there with a few thin folders. After a brief moment he held out his hand, "I'm Feliks Łukasiewicz, Matthew Williams' social worker."

Francis shook Łukasiewicz's hand, "It's nice to meet you, Mister...Um..." As if Francis wasn't nervous enough, he couldn't even pronounce the man's name. He must sound like an idiot.

"Call me Feliks, I know my last name is impossible to pronounce. Only my friend, Toris, can." Feliks turned to leave as he let go of Francis' hand, "This way."

Feliks lead him down the hallway and into a small room with a table and a few plastic chairs. The room was plain, with only one fake plant in the corner, obviously this was not an private office that Francis had thought that he would be in. Francis' nerves calmed a bit with knowing that he wasn't having a meeting with a man sitting behind a huge desk with a shiny name plaque. This was less formal, and less intimidating.

"So I got the results from the man who inspected your house," Feliks began as he sat in a chair, "And everything seems just fine, and you are fully approved to adopt."

Francis sat in the chair opposite of him, "_Oui_, that's what Mrs. Edelstein said over the phone the other day."

"Well, before we get this moving along, can answer any questions?"

Francis thought for a moment, "What do you do? I know that you're a social worker, but what does that mean?"

Feliks sat up a little straighter and his expression grew serious, "I am here to either be your best friend, or your worst nightmare."

Francis wondered what exactly he meant by that, but before he could ask, Feliks continued, "You see, I'm, like, the judge of whether or not Matthew is safe in your household. This means that if everything goes well, Matthew will continue to live with you, if not, he will probably get put into foster care." Feliks leaned forward and put his hands on the table without breaking eye contact, "Now, we are going to do this in segments. For the first two weeks, I will come to your house, talk to you and to Matthew privately. I will do this twice a week for two weeks. Got it?"

Francis tried to comprehend everything that Feliks was telling him. This was becoming increasingly more complicated and, again, he wondered if he should back-out of this or not. Then he remembered that day in France at the park with Joanne. When he had looked over at a father and his daughter, playing and laughing. He remembered turning to Joanne and asking, "Do you think we could have kids someday?"... He wanted to be a father so bad... Finally, Francis nodded.

Feliks took a deep breath so he could explain more, "After those first two weeks, I will come once a month for a year, and after that, if everything goes as planned, you won't see me again. Any questions?"

Francis was silent as he processed what the man had said to him, he tried to think of something to ask. Surely there was something that could be clarified, but Feliks had spoken so straight forward, he couldn't think of anything. "No, I don't think so."

Feliks stood out of his chair to leave, "You sure?"

Francis stood as well, "Oui, I think I got it."

Feliks reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card and held it out to Francis, "Well, since you're only _thinking_, call me if you have any questions, and please, stay seated, the owner of the orphanage will meet with you soon"

"Of course, I will, and thank you for talking to me." Francis said as he sat back down.

Feliks flashed a smile as he walked out the door, "See ya next week!"

Francis sat there and drummed his fingers nervously on the table. He had to get his mind off of the stress, he need to make a good impression, otherwise, he could be turned down. His mind wandered to Joanne and her bright laugh. Francis smiled at a short memory of when they accidentally booked reservations at the same restaurant as a surprise for their first wedding anniversary, and just like that, he was his mind was running through quick memories, one after another.

Francis jumped when the door swung open. A tall man with dark brown hair and glasses walked in. The man stopped short and looked Francis up and down. He straightened his posture, walked over and sat down in the same chair Feliks had sat in earlier. It wasn't until the man sat down when Francis noticed that it was the same man who was playing the piano when he had walked in the building. "Morning, I am Roderich Edelstein, the owner." The man spoke in an accent similar to Ludwig's.

"Hello," Francis tried to lighten his own accent. If Edelstein couldn't understand him, then Matthew probably wouldn't, and he had to keep that in mind. "I-"

Edelstein cut him off as he searched through his folder, "You are Francis Bonnefoy, yes? Can I see an ID?"

"Ou-Of course!" Francis put on a bright smile and tried not to look nervous as he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, took his ID out, and set it on the table.

Edelstein looked at the ID closely before setting it back on the table. "You are wanting to adopt four and a half year old boy, Matthew Williams, correct?"

"Yes, I-"

The man cut him off again, "And you spoke with Łukasiewicz?"

Francis wondered how Edelstein was able to pronounce Feliks' last name without stumbling on his words, "Yes." Francis decided not to say anything else knowing that he would probably be interrupted again.

"Any questions regarding Łukasiewicz's part?"

"No." Once again, Francis kept his answer at that.

Edelstein pulled out the paper he was looking for, stared at it for a moment, and looked up at Francis. "As you know by reading Matthew's profile that he came out of an abusive household."

"Yes, it was his father, _oui?_" Francis mentally kicked himself. _Speak English, dammit!_

Edelstein nodded, "There are many details that you should know..." He trailed off and seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower and had a sadder tone. "His father...Beat his mother to death when he was almost three years old."

Francis forced himself to speak English, "Oh, my God."

Edelstein kept going after a short sigh, "A few months later, he almost suffered that as well, luckily, he and his father were in public when his father lost his temper and a stranger saved him."

Francis didn't answer. He was too shocked. How could someone do that to a little boy?

Edelstein smiled lightly, "Matthew is a very bright, young boy, and he reads beyond his grade level... But he is also very scared. He does not talk to people he doesn't know, on good days, he will say a few words to my wife, and he will talk to Łukasiewicz sometimes, but that's it, if anything else, it's an apology. He doesn't make eye contact with anyone but Łukasiewicz, but those are on good days, and they are only quick glances."

Francis stared at him. He knew that the poor boy had been abused, but now he had a full understanding, he had an image in his head, and it left him speechless.

Edelstein continued, "He is timid and mild-mannered, yes, but it is hard to communicate with him, and it can be frustrating sometimes... You need to consider this before signing the papers. You aren't just adopting him, you will be helping him gain trust in the world."

Edelstein held out a pen and slid the paper closer to him. Francis pondered for a moment, wondering again whether or not Antonio was right, but he felt he didn't have a choice and signed the adoption papers.

Edelstein separated the papers into two piles, slid one pile closer to Francis and carefully placed the other in his own folder. "Those are yours to keep. They are proof that you are Matthew's legal guardian, so don't lose them, and keep them where you won't forget them."

Francis took the papers slowly and gently. There had been so many steps to adopting a child, but just like that, it was done.

Francis stood up as Edelstein did. "Congratulations, Mr. Bonnefoy, you're a father."

Francis' chest felt tight, and he didn't know weather to laugh or cry or both. Finally, he settled on, "Thank you so much, Mr. Edelstein."

Edelstein smiled and adjusted his glasses, "Now follow me, Matthew and Łukasiewicz are in the other room."

Francis' knees felt weak and his chest tightened so much it was harder to breathe. He took a long, deep breath and a slow exhale, his chest loosened, and he followed Edelstein across the hall. The room on the other side of the hall looked exactly the same as the other one. Over by the table he saw Feliks, who was knelt down in front of a small boy who Francis recognized as Matthew. Matthew nervously clutched a polar bear stuffed animal to his chest and looked at his feet as Feliks spoke to him, occasionally glancing up at Feliks but then back down at his feet. Feliks took a pause, flashed Francis a bright smile, looked back at Matthew and continued, "See there's Mr. Bonnefoy! Like I said, he his a very nice man. He is going to take you home and you are going to live with him. But, don't worry, I will see you on Wednesday, okie dokie?"

Matthew glanced at Francis, to Feliks then down to his feet and nodded. Francis looked at Edelstein when he spoke quietly, "Take good care of him, Mr. Bonnefoy, if you have any questions I would be happy to answer them. You can find my number on the homepage of the website." Edelstein smiled as he turned and left the room.

Feliks was still talking to Matthew, "Now, why don't you go over and see him, and I will get your things." The little boy nodded again as Feliks stood and looked at Francis, "I'll be right back."

After Feliks left there was a long, awkward silence. Matthew didn't come to him like he had promised Feliks, so Francis took a few uncomfortable steps forward, "I am very excited. I can't wait until you come to my house, you'll love it! I have a TV and you can watch your favorite cartoons! And I read in your profile that your favorite dinner is macaroni and cheese, so I will cook you that tonight, I'm a very good cook! How does that sound?"

Matthew said nothing, but he looked like he was going to burst into tears. The poor boy was so frightened, maybe there was a way Francis could relate. "Are you nervous? I'm a little nervous too, I've never been a father before."

Another painfully awkward silence, thankfully, Feliks walked in to break it. He carried a medium-sized backpack that looked full. He held it out to Francis. "These are Matthew's belongings, take them with you."

"This is all he has?" Sure, Matthew was young, but he must have more than that.

Feliks looked at him blankly, "This is an orphanage, Mr. Bonnefoy."'

Francis felt like hitting his head on the wall next to him. What a stupid question. Of course that's all Matthew had, it's not like his father gave him anything but bruises and broken bones. He sighed and took the bag that ended up lighter than it looked.

Feliks turned to Matthew, "Did you two talk while I was gone?"

Francis went to answer, but Feliks held up his hand to shut him up. After a few moments, Matthew shook his head.

"Did he talk to you while I was gone?"

Matthew hesitated, glanced up at Feliks, looked at his feet, and nodded.

Feliks smiled lightly, "What did he say?"

Matthew didn't move for a moment. Finally, he repeated his glancing and staring at his feet pattern. Then, in a small voice that Francis could barely hear he said, "He..." Matthew then smiled shyly, "He said he was going to make mac 'n' cheese..."

Feliks gasped with excitement, "Mac 'n' cheese? That's, like, your favorite thing in the world isn't it?" Matthew smiled a little bigger at Feliks' words. Seeing the boy actually happy made Francis smile too, it was just too precious. Seeing Feliks connecting and communicating with Matthew relieved him of some of his stress. He could do this. This was not a bad decision. He will never regret signing the adoption papers that he held in his hand.

Feliks continued to reassure Matthew, "See? I told you he was a nice guy! What do you say? You ready to go home?"

Matthew glanced at Francis with the smile on his face, looked back at Feliks, and back at his feet and nodded eagerly. Francis' chest filled with joy, he couldn't recall a time he had felt so nervous, excited and happy in his life.

_..._

_That Night_...

...

Arthur stared at his glass of whiskey. He needed a drink, oh, _God_ did he need a drink, no, he needed to get drunk, that's what he needed. But he had a son, he couldn't do that. Besides, his stomach was too upset take one sip, how the hell was he supposed to get drunk?

Just as he put the glass to his lips, and just before he took a taste of his drink, the phone rang. He slowly, gently, placed the glass back down on the table and looked at the caller ID on his cell phone. It was the hospital's number. He let it ring a few times before gaining the courage to pick it up. When he answered, he tried to sound casual, but he ended up whispering, "H-Hello?"

"Mr. Kirkland?"

Arthur closed his eyes, "Speaking."

_No. Don't tell me what I know you are going to tell me. Don't tell me she's gone. Tell me that she'll be okay. Tell me you've found a cure. Tell me that there has been a miracle. Oh, God don't tell me what I know you are going to tell me..._

"This is Mercy Cancer Treatment Center. I am calling to notify you that your spouse, Katlynn Kirkland, passed away tonight at 11:45 PM"

Arthur stared at the wall across the room and said nothing.

"We are very sorry for your loss."

Arthur looked at the clock on the wall, it must have only been ten minutes ago when Kate died.

"Mr. Kirkland?"

Arthur forced himself to speak, "Okay...Thank you for taking time to call... I will be there as soon as possible..."

"Take your time, sir, and get here safely."

"I will."

And with that, he hung up the phone. He stared at the wall. This is not what he imagined. His world should be shattering, he should be crying, screaming, but none of this seemed real enough. He needed to wake Alfred. They needed to go to the hospital. But, when he stood up, it hit him. Kate was dead. Kate, his wife, his love, was dead and she was never coming back. His legs felt weak, but he couldn't find his chair. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, tears running down his cheeks. He leaned against the table leg, brought his knees to his chest, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed. It hurt him so bad to see his wife waste away for a year and a half, and it hurt so much more now that she was gone. He would never see her again. Never see her smile, hear her laugh, smell her perfume, or hear the precious words "I love you so much, Arthur." from her again. Her life, _his_ life was over.

_Look on the bright side, she isn't in pain anymore. She doesn't have to go through agonizing treatment. Maybe she is at peace, maybe she is happy, maybe she is in Heaven, maybe she is with God_... Arthur reminded himself that he did not believe in such things.

After a while, he was able to gather himself. He looked at the clock and realized he had been on the floor of twenty-five minutes. _I can't drive like this_. He reached up for his phone, and hesitated before dialing.

After a few rings, his older brother, Lain, answered, "God damnit, Arthur! Do you know how late it is? I have to work tomorrow!"

Lain was the only brother that Arthur still had contact with, and the only reason for that was because Lain loved his nephew, Alfred. But right now, Arthur didn't care that Lain hated him, he just needed to get to the hospital. "Lain, I'm sorry I'm calling so late-"

Lain cut him off, "Are you crying? What are you drunk?"

Arthur choked back more tears and tried to speak clearly, "No, Kate passed away." The words where so hard to say.

Lain was silent so long that Arthur thought he had hung up, "I'm sorry, Arthur, and I'm sorry I snapped at you... I didn't even think that could be the reason why you were calling."

"It's okay... But I need you to dive Alfred and I to the hospital, I… Can't drive like this."

Lain sounded confused, "In case you don't remember, I live in Scotland. Maybe you should call someone closer?"

Arthur shook his head as if Lain could see him, "No... I need to have a... Long talk with Alfred anyway..."

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as possible."

When Arthur heard Lain hang up, he broke out in sobbing again.

...

Arthur had managed to drag himself up the staircase that he was, for sure, too weak for. He had been standing outside his son's bedroom door for minutes now. He had never been able to tell Alfred that his mother had a terminal illness, but he had laid awake playing the scene in his head, over and over again, what he would say, how he would say it, and how he expected Alfred to respond. He had everything planned out, but he could remember none of it.

Finally he opened the door, quietly walked across the room and knelt down at Alfred's short bed. He reached out a hand to gently shake Alfred awake, but stopped at took it back. _How am I going to say this? How the bloody hell can I tell my own son that his mother is dead?_ Arthur looked at Alfred for a moment. Alfred breathed slowly as he dreamed in blissful, peaceful sleep, and now Arthur was about to wake him up and destroy his world. Tears ran down his cheeks as he put a hand to his mouth to stop himself from making noise. He gathered himself, once again, wiped his tears and gently shook Alfred. "Alfred?... Alfred, you need to wake up."

Alfred moaned as he turned to Arthur, "...Fivemoreminutes...,"

Arthur sighed, "No, Alfred, you need to wake up _now_. I am turning on your lamp." Arthur reached over to the bedside lamp and clicked it on.

"No! Daddy! Turn it off! It hurts my eyes!" Alfred wined.

Arthur's composure was beginning to fall apart again, "Alfred, listen to me."

Alfred squinted in the light, "Am I late for school?"

Arthur shook his head quickly, "No, no, you're not going to school today, probably not until after next week."

Alfred opened his eyes more, "But I want to go to school, I learn new songs and things!" Alfred picked up his head slightly in surprise, "Daddy, are you crying?"

Arthur said nothing for a moment and took a quivering sigh, "Alfred, listen to me, this is very important."

"Am I in trouble? Did you notice the missing biscuit? I took three instead of two even though you said not to, but I was _really_ hungry!"

Arthur closed his eyes briefly, sighed, and opened his eyes, "No, you're not in trouble."

"I thought so, you wouldn't cry over a biscuit." Alfred said it as if it was an obvious fact.

Arthur wanted to laugh, it would usually make him laugh, but he just continued, "Alfred, don't say anything right now, I just need you to listen... You know how you're mother... Has been ill?"

"Yeah, she's been living at the hospital for, like, _ever_."

Arthur forced himself to breathe evenly, "Do you remember... I told you that the medicine that they had wasn't that great?"

Alfred yawned, "Uh-huh."

Arthur took a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself from breaking down. "The medicine... Didn't help and... Your mother... Passed away."

Alfred only stared at him blankly before speaking, "You mean she's dead? But I saw her earlier! How can she be dead? You told me she was going to be okay!"

Arthur couldn't hold his composure anymore and he broke down. He buried his face in Alfred's mattress and cried, "I'm sorry, Alfred! Don't be mad at me! Please! You can be mad, but not at me! I didn't do this! This isn't my fault!"

"Whose fault is it?"

Arthur looked up at him. Alfred had tears in his eyes. Arthur pulled his son into a hug, and Alfred began to cry. "It's no one's fault, Alfred," Arthur began, "I love you, I love you so much!"

"I love you too, Daddy."

Arthur held Alfred so tight, it probably hurt the poor boy, but Alfred didn't seem to mind. It pained Arthur to hear his son cry like this, but at least Arthur wasn't alone anymore.

Alfred calmed down, and Arthur forced himself to do the same. He pulled away from Alfred and smiled sadly, "Everything will be okay, things will be different, but we'll be okay." Alfred didn't say anything as Arthur began to rebuild his composure, "Uncle Lain is going to be here soon to take us to the hospital to see your mother."

"But I thought she was dead."

It suddenly hit Arthur that Alfred may not fully comprehend the concept of death yet. In fact, Alfred was only five and a half, he may be too young to remember his mother in later years. In a way, Arthur was jealous, he wished that he could forget. "You mother is at the hospital but she isn't... Alive..."

Before Alfred could ask more painful questions, the doorbell rang. Without a word, Arthur picked Alfred up from his bed and carried him down the stairs. He felt like he was walking through a dream, a nightmare. He silently prayed that he would wake up soon and find Kate asleep in bed next to him.

He sat Alfred on the couch and headed to the door. When he opened the door, he saw Lain looking back at him with a worried and sad expression. As much as he hated his older brother, Arthur was relieved to see a familiar face. His composure crumbled once again, he wrapped Lain in a tight hug, and began to sob again. Lain rested his hands loosely on Arthur's back until Arthur was able to calm down again. He broke away from the hug and wiped his tears, "Sorry."

Lain shook his head, "It's fine."

Arthur need a moment to think, a moment to be by himself before they left. After searching his mind for an excuse, he found one, "Could you sit with Alfred? I need a drink of water."

Lain nodded and Arthur quickly walked into the kitchen. More tears ran down his cheeks but he kept his crying quiet so he wouldn't draw attention to himself. He was so confused, it didn't feel real, it felt like a nightmare, and it made him numb, but at the same time he realized it as reality and it hurt so much. He knew it would hit him hard, he knew this would be difficult but he didn't expect it to hurt this much. His heart felt like it had been shattered into pieces, his life was over.

Arthur's ears began to ring and he felt lightheaded. The world spun around him and black spots blocked his vision. He grabbed the counter by his side and thought that it would be best to go back into the living room and sit down. He stumbled a few steps but he couldn't keep his balance, the world spun faster and he could feel himself begin to fall, then nothing. Nothing. No emotion, no pain, blissful, peaceful, nothing.

Arthur could have swore he heard his name, but he couldn't be for sure. The nothing began to fade as he became aware of his headache and the cold tile floor underneath him.

"Arthur! Can you hear me?"

Arthur opened his eyes to see Lain. He remembered why Lain was there, remembered the life shattering phone call, and the pain came back to him.

Lain spoke again with panic in his voice, "You okay? Did you hit your head? I think you fainted."

Arthur closed his eyes as he began to cry again. He tried to speak clearly but his voice came out in a broken whisper through his sobs.

"I want to die."

...

...

...

Translations:

Sí: (Spanish/Italian)- Yes

Other Notes:

Sorry for the bitter-sweet chapter. You'll see Feliks (Poland) again, however, Roderich Edelstien (Austria) was a one-time cameo. Lain (Scotland) will appear in later chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

_..._

_Six Months Later..._

...

Francis sat on his porch and read the newspaper as Matthew sat next to him, coloring in his coloring book as he hummed. Matthew rarely spoke, but he often hummed to his own little tune, and he also seemed to enjoy listening to music, Francis wondered why that was, perhaps it was the only way Matthew could express himself. He was such a sweet boy, Francis never noticed how clumsy he could be until Matthew kept asking, "Are you okay?" everytime without fail.

Matthew had been slowly coming out of his shell. He had recently started asking for snacks if he was hungry and if they could have macaroni and cheese for dinner... Again. But if Francis said "No." then Matthew would cringe and say, "I'm sorry!" and it broke Francis' heart every time knowing why that was Matthew's first impulse. "Progress is progress" as Feliks would say.

Joanne would have loved him, would have taken him in as her own in a heartbeat. Sure, she was strong willed and spirited, but she had such a warm side to her personality. Francis wished she were here, Matthew would be talking non-stop with her taking care of him.

Francis glanced up and saw Ludwig walking down the sidewalk with his German Shepherd, Berlin. Berlin was trained extremely well, and didn't even need a leash. As intimidating as her breed could be, she was nothing but a sweetheart. When Berlin saw Francis, she stopped walking, her tail started to wag, and she began to whine excitedly. Ludwig whistled to her, but she only whined louder.

Francis smiled, "Hello, _Ber_-_lin_!"

Berlin whined louder and glanced quickly between Francis and Ludwig. Ludwig looked at Francis and back to Berlin and whistled at a different pitch.

With the permission given, Berlin trotted up the driveway and over to Francis, her tail wagging even faster than it had been before. Francis leaned forward and began to pet her, scratch behind her ears, and ruffle her fur. He praised her. Why wouldn't he? She was such a nice dog after all, "Hello, Berlin! How are you? Have you been a good girl lately? I bet you have! You're so sweet! Yes, you are!"

Berlin walked over to Matthew and sniffed him, begging for attention. Matthew dropped his book on the ground, pulled up his legs, and cowered in his chair.

Ludwig stopped at the porch steps, "It's okay, Matthew," he said, "She's very nice."

When Matthew didn't seem convinced, Ludwig made a high-pitched whistle that turned into a low-pitched one. Berlin walked over and sat next to her owner. Ludwig bent down, grabbed the coloring book, and held it out to Matthew. Matthew hesitated before taking it, "Sorry."

Ludwig leaned against the railing, "I think I'm the one who should apologize, _mein hund_ invaded your space." When Matthew didn't say anything, Ludwig turned to Francis, "_Guten tag_, how are you?"

Francis smiled, "_Bonjour_, we are doing well," he turned to Matthew, "Matthew, why don't you say hello?"

Ludwig nodded at Matthew, "_Guten tag_, Matthew, how are you today?"

Matthew seemed more nervous than he had been in weeks. Matthew had met Ludwig on many occasions, but Ludwig was a tall, muscular man, who had a deep, harsh voice due to his thick German accent, and in top of that, he had a dog with big teeth, so to Matthew, Ludwig was a very intimidating man. Francis had been trying to show Matthew that there was nothing to be afraid of, because in the year that Francis had known Ludwig, he learned that he was much like Berlin. Sure, he was intimidating, but he always had a light smile when with company, contentment in his voice, and although it was rare to hear it, you could hear his deep laugh from the other end of the neighborhood, and on top of that, he was the most honest man Francis knew.

Just as Francis thought Matthew wasn't going to answer, he said very quietly, "Good."

He was right, today was a good day. Matthew had spoken more this day than he had all week, and Francis didn't want it to stop, he didn't want Matthew to go silent, so he tried to keep the conversation going. "How about you tell him who you are going to meet today?"

Matthew glanced up at Ludwig, but quickly looked at his feet, "My uncles."

Ludwig's eyebrows raised, "Really? Are you excited to meet them?"

Matthew smiled shyly and nodded, but his smile soon faded and he went back to coloring. He was done talking for now.

Ludwig turned to Francis, "The two strange ones that helped you move here?"

Francis laughed harder than he had all day, "_Oui_, they are strange aren't they?" He took a moment to gather himself, "My brother is coming up from Spain as well."

Ludwig tilted his head, "Wow, your family is all over Europe, know anyone from Germany?"

"Only you." Francis said, "How are you, anyway?"

Ludwig's light smile faded as he hesitated, "_Mein bruder_ is very ill."

"Oh, _mon dieu_! Will he be okay?"

Ludwig hesitated again, "_Ja_, I'm sure he'll be fine. He's just a freak of nature and has every recessive gene possible, so he has a very weak immune system. He got sick last week and now he's hospitalized with a horrible case of pneumonia."

Francis tried to reassure Ludwig with a smile, "Well, I hope he makes a fast recovery."

Ludwig went to say something but he was interrupted by the sound of a car door closing. Francis looked past his friend and saw Antonio walking up the driveway with a cab driving away from him. Francis stood and met Antonio at the porch steps. Antonio reached out and pulled him into a hug, "It is so good to see you, _Hermano_!" Francis' chest filled with happiness, it had been two years since he had last seen his older brother.

When they broke out of the hug, Antonio looked at him up and down, his eyes bright and full of life, as usual, "You look _bueno_! You grew out your hair more! _Me gusta!_"

Francis laughed, "You look good too, not much different, but good."

Antonio smiled brightly, "Really? No difference? Oh, what a relief! I turn thirty-one next _Febereo_, I was worried that I might be looking old!"

Francis suddenly remembered Ludwig. How rude. Francis shifted his weight and gestured to Ludwig, "Antonio, this is my friend and neighbor, Ludwig."

Antonio reached out and took Ludwig's hand in both of his, "_Sí! Sí! Hola, amigo!_ I've heard so much about you!"

Ludwig tilted his head, "You have?"

"_Sí! Sí!_ Francis tells me much over the phone! Oh, but don't worry, good things, _amigo!_"

Antonio's eyes shifted from Ludwig to Matthew. He gasped and ran over to him. He knelt down at Matthew's level and smiled that joyful smile that he always had, "Matthew! I've been so excited to meet you! I'm your Uncle Antonio!"

Matthew seemed to be overwhelmed by Antonio's energy. Francis had warned him to be careful around Matthew and Francis could tell, he was doing his best. He stood a step away from Matthew and spoke softer than he had seconds ago.

"Hi." Matthew squeaked.

"Oh, what are you coloring? The colors are _magnífico!_"

Francis wondered how this would play out. If anyone was good with children, it was Antonio, and he could get anyone to talk, even Lovino when he's grumpy. Francis couldn't believe it. Matthew was saying quiet, short sentences as Antonio asked him questions. He was talking to Antonio. A complete stranger. Francis smiled. Matthew was growing, and Francis felt so happy that he had helped. Matthew was going to be happy. He had a bad start in his childhood, but he could get through the trauma and be happy someday. Edelstein's words rang in his ears, _You aren't just adopting him, you will be helping him gain trust in the world._

_Oh, Joanne, I wish you could see this. You would have loved this. You would have loved him. I wish you could be his motherly figure. Oh, Joanne, I wish you were here._

_..._

_The Next Morning..._

...

He came out of the closet in high school, parents said it was a phase, turns out it was, married a woman, God, was he nervous at the altar, finally told his parents that he was atheist, they disowned him when he refused to confess his "sins", had countless fights with his brothers, two of them were dead to him, and the other only talks to him because he loves Alfred.

Arthur couldn't believe he even once complained about these problems, none of them mattered, they were all too trivial. Then again, everything seemed trivial, nothing really mattered, nothing was really worth it.

_Alfred matters. Alfred is worth it._

Was it bad he had to remind himself that everyday?

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the front door of his house. Where the bloody hell was Alfred? At this rate, he was going to be late for school. Arthur looked at himself in the rearview mirror. His eyes were sullen and had dark circles under them. He tilted his head a bit so he could see his jaw line. Both his jaw and cheekbones were a bit more visible now. He hadn't been sleeping and eating right, to say the least.

Alfred stepped into the car, already talking, "Sorry, my shoe laces didn't want to stay tied!"

Arthur put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, "It's okay, looks like you're still going to be on time."

There was a long silence as Arthur drove down the road. His mind began to drift into nothingness, before he got into the state where he wasn't paying attention at all, Alfred started chatting again, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I made a new friend!"

Arthur mind snapped back into place. A new friend? This could be a great thing for Alfred. Alfred seemed to be taking his mother's death well, but then again, he didn't really get the concept of it, but still things were different, and Alfred didn't like it, this could help him cope.

"Really? Who?" Arthur forced himself to smile through his words.

"He's new this year. His name is Matthew."

"Well, Alfred, that's great that you've made a new friend. What is he like?"

Alfred didn't miss a beat in the conversation, "He doesn't talk."

The way Alfred casually said strange things confused Arthur daily, "Doesn't? Or can't?"

"He doesn't talk. He whispers to his daddy at pick-up, but that's all"

Arthur shifted in his seat, "Well, if he doesn't talk, then what do you two do?"

Alfred began an entire story, "Well, I was late to recess because I had to go to the loo so I couldn't play football because they had too many players, and Jett was sick so he wasn't there. And I saw Matthew all alone and I thought he might be lonely so I talked to him, he didn't talk back, but he listened to me and laughed at my jokes, and-and, he had a polar bear stuffed animal and he let me feel it's fur and it was soft."

Arthur had no idea why Alfred was so chatty. His mother wasn't a loner, but she was shy around people she didn't know, and Arthur was a complete hermit. Where did the extrovert mindset come from? Nevertheless, it was a sweet story. Alfred had some difficulty connecting and communicating effectively, but if someone was hurt or sad, Alfred wanted to help as much as possible, and more than that, he was extremely accepting. Any kid in their right mind would be too ADD to spend time with a kid who didn't talk. Arthur felt a bit a pride. What a caring, young boy Alfred turned out to be.

Arthur pulled up to the school and Alfred began unbuckling his seat belt and getting his things.

"Are you going to talk with him today? I think you should. He seems shy, but I think he enjoyed your company." Arthur said.

"Yeah, I gotta 'nother joke to tell him! He'll love it," Alfred opened his door and stepped out, "Bye, Daddy, love you."

Arthur smiled sadly, "I love you too."

Alfred closed the door and ran inside the school. Arthur wondered if Alfred would ever get through the phase of running everywhere he went.

Arthur had the day off, and he was relived. Which was strange, he usually loved teaching history, but lately, he just had no interest and dreaded every day of work. He couldn't just stay at home though, he had to get out of the house, maybe it would help. He had been procrastinating errands long enough to have a full day of running around.

The lines on the road where mesmerizing, and his mind slipped back into nothing. His eyelids were becoming heavy, and his foot relaxed on the gas as eyes closed and his head fell forward...

Arthur snapped his head up with a gasp.

_Of course, I've been trying to sleep for six months, and now, while I'm bloody driving, is when I finally fall asleep!_

He clicked the radio on and turned up the volume. When he felt himself dozing off again, he shook his head and tried to concentrate on the lyrics. The lyrics became nothing but mumbling, and the music faded until he didn't hear it anymore. His pulse and breathing slowed, and his shoulders relaxed as he drifted off into a doze...

A horn blared. Arthur's head bolted up, his eyes opened, and he realized he was about to run a red light into a busy intersection. He slammed on the brakes so hard his seat belt locked so he wouldn't hit himself on the steering wheel. The tires made a high-pitched screeching noise. His heart raced, he closed his eyes so tightly it hurt and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel.

The car finally came to a stop centimeters away from the moving cars. His pulse was so quick he couldn't breathe fast enough to keep up with it. His hands quivered, and he felt light-headed. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and breathed deeply, forcing his heartbeat to even.

The light turned green right as he began to calm down. He pulled into a random parking lot and parked. He was was a bloody mess. What was he supposed to do? If Alfred mattered, if Alfred was worth living for, why was it so hard to do so? Even if he was _trying_ to stay alive, he almost gets killed in a bloody car accident...

_Well, I'm not that far from my destination... May as well walk..._

_..._

_Meanwhile..._

...

Francis pulled up to his house to see Feliciano idly chatting with Ludwig. Ludwig looked so awkward, but then again, he was a bit of an introvert, so that was normal. But Feliciano had so much more energy than what Ludwig was probably used to, in fact, most people didn't know how to deal with Feliciano's energy, not even Lovino, his own twin. Francis suddenly remembered the last time they talked and thought he should save the poor man from Feliciano's strange questions that he was probably asking.

Francis got out of his car and walked up to them, "Morning, I see you've reunited with my neighbor."

Feliciano grinned, "_Sì!_ I ran into him when I went to get your mail, isn't that a coincidence?" Feliciano turned back to Ludwig with a gasp, "Oh! You know what, Ludwig? I'm cooking spaghetti for dinner tonight, maybe you should come over, there'll be more than enough to go around!"

Francis gave a side glance at his brother, "We aren't having spaghetti tonight."

Feliciano didn't take his eyes off of Ludwig, "Yes we are."

Francis shook his head, "No we are not. I don't have ingredients, I don't even have the noodles."

"Then we'll buy some."

Francis looked at his friend in exasperation, Ludwig had a expression of amusement on his face. "Who said that I'm buying noodles because you can't go a day without pasta, huh?"

"Trust me, I have money for pasta. I always do, so won't you come, Ludwig?"

Francis saw slight pain in Ludwig's face, "I'd love to, but I need to work later because I won't have _mein bruder's_ help."

"What's a _brooter_?"

Ludwig looked as if he was disappointed in himself, "_Verdammt_," he mumbled, "Sorry, I mean my brother."

"Oh, right you work with him. Wait, why wouldn't he be there?" as Ludwig tried to answer, Feliciano gasped, "Is he dead? Oh, I'm sorry!"

Panic came across Ludwig face, "_Nein, nein_, he's just ill, doctor said he'd be fine!"

Wasn't Francis supposed to be saving Ludwig from this? Francis smiled nervously, "Well, that's good to hear that he'll be fine, and we are so sorry you can't make it for dinner, send your brother our 'get wells', we really should be going, I have other errands to run, come Feliciano." He grabbed his brother's arm and began walking him up the driveway, "Have a easy day of work, _au revoir!_"

Ludwig looked confused that they were basically running away from him, "Ja, ein guter Tag..."

Francis let go of Feliciano once they were inside, "Why can't you just have a normal conversation? Why do you ask so many questions?"

Feliciano began to whine, "What? I didn't do anything wrong! Grandpa always told me it was rude to talk about yourself all the time."

"Where you bothering the neighbor again?" Lovino chimed in, "I keep telling you to leave the poor bastard alone. He probably has enough problems."

Feliciano made a hurt expression as he looked at Lovino, who was sitting at the dining room table, "Problem? Since when am I a problem?"

Lovino sighed, "Certainly a handful."

"How?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, "Where do I start? You talk too much, too fast too, you get distracted all the time and not to mention the random things you say that mean nothing."

Feliciano looked irritated, "Well, you're always cursing and for someone who acts tough, you sure are sensitive!"

Lovino looked as if he was going to lose his temper completely, but Francis cut in before he could say anything, "Alright that's enough! Feliciano, you're going with me to run a few errands, Lovino, you're staying here with Antonio. You two had a long car ride here, and have been cooped up with each other too long, let's spend time away from each other, everything will be fine by the time we get back." This wasn't the first fight he had broken up, and it wouldn't be the last, He was the older brother, this was his purpose in life, breaking up fights.

Lovino didn't take his glare off of Feliciano, "Fine. Whatever."

Francis patted Feliciano on the back to get his attention as he headed out the door. Once the front door closed behind them Feliciano began complaining, "Why is Lovino so mean sometimes?"

"Well, what you said was pretty harsh." Francis said, getting in the car.

Feliciano got into the passenger seat next to him. "Yeah, but he started it."

Francis rolled his eyes and drove. He had expected his brother to be talking nonstop, but strangely, he stayed silent. Francis glanced at him, he seemed to be pondering, "Something on you mind, Feli?"

Feliciano hesitated before speaking, " Sì, for two years."

"What? What could you have been thinking about for two years?"

Feliciano shook his head, "No, Lovino told me never to ask you that."

Francis spoke cautiously, "Ask me what?"

Feliciano stayed silent while debating with himself, "Okay. Um, you know the fire?"

Francis sighed, "How could I forget?"

"I mean, of course you can't forget it but..."

Francis just wanted to get this over with. "But what?"

Feliciano hesitated again, "Did... Did you see anything?"

Francis glanced at him with a confused look before looking back at the road, "What do you mean by that? Are you hiding something?"

"No." Feliciano paused, and his voice filled with fear, "I mean... When they found you... You weren't breathing... You didn't have a heartbeat... You were... _Dead_... Did you see anything?"

Francis had been doing well with his wife's death lately. With his brothers, Matthew and Ludwig, things were going well. He took an effort to keep Joanne in good memory and stay away from the tainted memories of the fire, and it was working. But now and then on bad nights and moments like these, survivor's guilt would hit him. He sighed and tried to swallow his sadness, "You mean, like a light at an end of a tunnel, or God, or Heaven?"

He saw his brother nod in the corner of his eye, Francis sighed again it was becoming hard to concentrate on the road, thankfully, a light turned red and he had to stop. He put on his blinker to turn right and leaned back into his chair, "I remember going to bed that night and falling asleep. I remember waking up to a fire alarm... And I kind of remember running down the hallway, but that one is hazy... Next thing I knew I woke in the hospital."

"You didn't see anything?"

Francis shook his head, "Either that, or I don't remember it."

It had always bothered Francis that he couldn't remember his wife's death, and the fact that no one could tell him about it. What happened? How come they couldn't find the exit? Was the fire escape blocked? Did he fall first? If so, did he try to tell her to go on without him? Did she suffer? Did he say good bye? So many questions with no answers.

"Uh, the light is green."

Right as Feliciano said those words, someone honked at him to go through the intersection. He sighed angrily and took the right. Just as he did, Feliciano gasped loudly...

_..._

_Meanwhile..._

...

Arthur's errands were over too fast. He wanted to do more than that, he wanted to numb his mind of the pain, and running errands had done just that, and now his errands were finished, and the pain came back. He stood at the crosswalk waiting to the signal to walk across when he heard a familiar voice.

"Arthur!"

He looked behind him to see his two neighbors, Tino and Berwald. Tino had a bright, yet sort of sad smile across his lips while Berwald had no expression, as usual. They weren't exactly Arthur's friends, but they were very friendly and kept him in one awkward conversation after another for the past few months.

"Small world, how are you?" Tino said, still smiling.

_Awful, terrible, depressed, hopeless, helpless... Hell, Alfred is the only thing in my life that is keeping me from taking too many sleeping pills._

"Oh, I'm... Okay." He said, forcing himself to replicate Tino's smile.

"Han'ng in there?" Berwald mumbled.

Arthur just nodded, and there was a short silence before Tino broke it, "How's Alfred doing? Is he doing well in school?"

Arthur nodded again, "Yes, he is doing well, he's actually making new friends."

"Oh, that will certainly help him! I'm glad you guys are doing well!"

A longer, even more awkward silence fell, "Well, We're just acro's th' street if ye need an'thing." Berwald said.

Tino glanced up at him and widened his smile, "Oh, yes! If you need anything, you know where to find us! Now we must get going, we have places to be! See ya later and have a good day!"

Arthur made an effort to keep his smile, "Thank you, you too." Once they left his smile fell immediately.

Arthur turned and stepped off the curb and onto the crosswalk looking down at his feet. How was he supposed to do this? Why was everything so hard? What had he done to deserve this? Why did he have to suffer? Was he guilty? Was it normal to feel this way, or was there something wrong with him? So many questions with no answers. Perhaps he should speak with a therapist, maybe he would have answers. No, he didn't need help, he has gone this far by himself, he didn't need anyone's help now... Right?

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car on his left. He looked over and noticed a car taking a right and it was headed straight for him. His first impulse was to jump out of the way, but it was too late. The bumper hit him in the side and shot pain through his whole body and then, for a moment, he could feel himself fly... It ended quickly as another surge of pain pulsed through his whole body, then, nothing, blissful, peaceful, nothing...

...

...

...

Translations:

Hund: (German)- Dog

Guten Tag: (German)- Good day

Mon Dieu: (French)- My God

Bueno: (Spanish)- Good

Me Gusta: (Spanish)- I like

Febereo: (Spanish)- February

Amigo: (Spanish)- Friend

Magnífico: (Spanish)- Magnificent

Verdammt: (German)- Dammit

Nein: (German)- No

Au revoir: (French)- Good bye

Ja, ein guter Tag: (German)- Yes, have a good day

Other Notes:

Sorry that Matthew is so quiet and passive, I am not usually one to portray him like that, but his character development will go slowly. And, of course, Tino and Berwald were a SuFin cameo!


	4. Chapter 4

Francis watched as the man fell onto his hood and go up and over his windshield. Francis slammed on the breaks and the car came to an immediate stop. He looked at Feliciano who just stared at him wide eyed. Francis turned, and got out of the car, not caring enough to close the door behind him. He saw the car behind him with a dent in the hood and the man lying in front of the car motionless. Francis began to run towards the man, panic engulfing his mind. He had to remind himself to remain calm, and to think clearly. He turned to Feliciano, who was just a step behind him, "Call an ambulance!"

Feliciano stopped in his tracks. He apparently was panicking worse than Francis because he responded in full Italian, "_Non conosco il numero di emergenza!_"

Francis couldn't understand a word that his brother had said, and did not care, he just yelled over his shoulder, "Just call nine-nine-nine!" He bent down to the motionless man and added, "And speak English!" Francis looked back down at the man, he was pale and his head was bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but he was panting. "Oh thank God you're breathing!" Francis muttered under his breath. He had never felt so relieved in his life.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!" Francis looked up to see a man with longish brown hair running up to him as he continued his apology, which with Matthew around, he was sick of hearing, "I honked at you to go though the light, and I pressured you, and you hit this poor man, and oh, God, this is all my fault!"

Francis was irritated. He had expected to reassure the victim, but this man wasn't even hurt, and Francis had to calm him? Didn't seem to make sense at all. Regardless of his frustration, Francis managed to look at the man with a kind expression, "No, it's okay, I wasn't paying attention."

The other driver ran his fingers through his hair, thinking and looking at the sky. He looked back down at Francis, "Is there anything I can do?"

Francis thought for a moment. He could handle the victim, calm him if he woke up, and perform CPR if he stopped breathing, and Feliciano was talking to emergency services. What else was there to do? Francis noticed a car drive past him, they weren't that far from the other lane, and the passing cars were a bit too close for comfort. He looked at the brown haired man, "Do you think you can block that lane with your car and move out of the way when the ambulance gets here?" The man only nodded and hopped back into the dented car.

"Is he breathing?" Feliciano said, his accent thicker than usual.

"_Oui_." Francis responded. Feliciano repeated the answer into the phone and Francis looked back down at the man to make sure he was still breathing. When he did, he noticed that the man was trying to sit up. He put a soft hand on the man's chest and gently pushed him back onto the ground, "No, stay down, you might be very hurt." He tried to sound reassuring, but his voice came out panicked. The man clumsily laid back down, still panting.

Feliciano knelt down next to Francis, "The ambulance is on it's way."

Francis only nodded, not taking his focus off the poor man, "Can you hear me, sir?"

The man nodded weakly, "Yes... I..."

Francis tried his best to lighten his accent, there was no use to talking to the man if he couldn't understand him, "What is your name?"

"...Ar'urKirkl'n..." The man slurred.

Francis leaned forward and brushed his hair behind his ear so he could hear better, "Say that again. What is your name?"

The man's eyes shut tight and his large eyebrows pulled together as if he was trying to concentrate, "Ar... Arthur Kirkland."

Francis nodded, and tried to sound cheerful and reassuring, "Okay, Arthur, I'm Francis. I am so sorry for what had happened, but I promise, you will be just fine."

Arthur's eyes opened and wandered up to the sky, "What happened?" he groaned

Francis suddenly felt a stab of guilt. "I... Uh... I hit you with my car."

"Wanker."

Feliciano made a snort that could have been a laugh. Francis glared at his brother with a side glance. He let the insult go, besides, he probably deserved it. Francis could hear sirens in the distance, and the other driver crept forward, getting ready to move out of the way. He had to ask more questions, the more he knew, and the more he could tell the paramedics, the better they could help poor Arthur. "Are you in pain? What hurts?"

Arthur groaned again, "Everything."

Francis felt relieved to see Arthur awake and talking but panic settled back in his chest when Arthur said that. Francis ignored the tight feeling in his chest and moved on to the next question. He reached down and lightly patted Arthur's knee, "Can you feel your legs?"

Arthur's eyes closed and his voice became weak, "... Yes."

Arthur was fading back into unconsciousness, so Francis patted Arthur lightly on the chest, his accent becoming thicker in his panic, "Stay awake, Arthur! Can you hear me?"

"...I... Hear..." Arthur only mumbled his words, and the dazed look on his face faded into an expressionless one.

Francis searched his brain for another question, he tried his best to sound reassuring but his voice came out frantic, "Who is your emergency contact? A family member? A wife or girlfriend perhaps?"

Arthur's body relaxed as he spoke, "... Emer... Wife?... _Kate_..."

Francis couldn't panic, he had to remain calm, he had to think clearly, unfortunately, it wasn't working well. "Kate? Is she your wife? She has a pretty name! How can I contact her?" Arthur didn't respond and Francis' chest tightened so much he could hardly breathe. "Arthur? Stay awake! Can you hear me? How do I contact Kate?"

Before Francis lost his sanity, Feliciano did, "Oh, _mio dio!_ You killed him!"

Terror struck into Francis' heart and he couldn't breathe anymore. He felt dizzy and black spots blocked his peripheral vision. He looked back down at poor Arthur to see him still breathing. His chest loosened just enough to wheeze in a breath of air through the relief. He took a staggering sigh, "No, Feli, he's breathing." he wasn't sure if his words were audible or not, but he was too breathless to repeat himself.

The sirens were close now, good thing, too, because Francis felt like he was going to pass out from the panic and stress. He reminded himself that just because Arthur was breathing now, didn't mean he was going to be okay. He was breathing unevenly, ghostly pale, and in much pain, in fact, he had said that everything hurt. Francis put his head in his hand. He felt so stupid, so guilty. Arthur probably didn't deserve the pain he was in. The poor man probably had a family at home, and Francis hit him with his car. What if Arthur died? Then he had just taken away somebody's husband, and somebody's father just because he didn't look before taking that damn right.

...

...

Arthur woke with his head pounding. With every heartbeat, pain pulsed through his skull. He squinted at the bright light above him that pained his head worse, and it seemed to take too long for his eyes to adjust. He groaned as he came to the realization of his aching neck and the horrible pain in his back.

"Hey."

He tried to place the voice he heard with a face he knew, but he couldn't. When he turned his head to see who it was, the world moved too fast and a wave nausea hit him so hard that he thought he was going to throw up, but the feeling died just slightly enough so he wouldn't. His vision was blurry, but he could make out Lain, who was sitting at his bedside. Anger rose through him, Lain was the last person he wanted to see.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He tried to speak clearly, but he could hear his own words slur. He thought about repeating himself, but he figured Lain wasn't worth the trouble.

Lain sat up in his chair, "I could be asking you that same question."

What was that supposed to mean? In fact, It took Arthur a long time to even comprehend what his brother had said to him, and even longer to realize that he wasn't in his own bed. He looked around the plain room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but he couldn't. Nothing made sense. Finally, he looked back at Lain, "Where are we?"

Lain didn't hesitate his answer, "Well, you're in the hospital. I'm just visiting you."

Lain's words were so hard to understand, it was like he was speaking a different language, but slowly, they began to make sense. He was in the hospital... That had to be wrong, he was just running errands... How dangerous was the office supply store?... Did someone attack him?... Whatever happened, he couldn't remember. So he turned to Lain again, "What happened?"

"You jumped in front of a car."

Once again, it took Arthur longer to understand what Lain had said, but something was different, he sounded angry. Why was Lain angry at him this time? Something else was out of place, but what? Arthur ran the words through his head again. If he jumped in front of a car, then he was probably hit by the car. Well, that made sense, he was in a lot of pain, so it wasn't that. Then he realized that Lain didn't say he was hit by a car, but that he jumped in front of the car. If that was true, then he had gotten hit by the car on purpose, that was the part that didn't make sense. "What do you mean by that?"

Lain sounded angrier, "What part don't you understand? You jumped in front of a moving vehicle."

Arthur took a moment to understand before speaking, "Why would I do that? That could have killed me!"

"Wasn't that the point?"

Why was it so hard to understand? Why was Lain talking so fast? What did he mean by "the point"? A point, like on the tip of a pencil? No, that didn't make sense. What had he said before Lain spoke? The possibility of dying. If dying was "the point"... Pieces began fitting together, and his words slurred more as he spoke again, "You think this was a suicide attempt? Did someone tell you that I did this on purpose?"

Lain looked a bit guilty, "Well, no, but-"

Arthur didn't care about the other words that he may or may not have understood, he heard "no", which answered his question, so he interrupted, "So, why would you think that?"

Lain's voice rose slightly, "Because I, or anyone else, hasn't heard a word from you since the funeral..."

Funeral? What funeral? Kate. Kate's funeral. Pieces began to fit a bit faster than before, and understanding was becoming easier, "So? I rarely spoke to you beforehand! And why do you think I'm social? Kate was the one who talked to people, not me! I'm a hermit!"

Lain's eye's softened, "Good point... Regardless, I know you're going through a difficult time... I completely understand that..."

Understand? How could anyone possibly understand? They all say that. _Don't worry, I completely understand._ How could they? Unless Lain, or any of the others, were somehow widowers, then that was impossible. Arthur thought about lashing out, but instead, he let his brother continue, "... But, I swear, if you are stupid enough to try, or be reckless enough for this to happen again, I don't know what I'll do to you."

Arthur looked away and closed his eyes in frustration, "Why? It's not like you care about me."

"True. But you're not leaving my nephew parent-less. Understand me?"

Arthur's anger made his head pound harder, and made his stomach feel worse, so instead of answering the question, he put a hand to his mouth and asked for a bowl to throw up in.

...

...

Lovino turned on his small reading light that clipped onto his book. He was tired and full of spaghetti, but the story was just beginning to get interesting, but he had to get through this one boring chapter sometime. He re-positioned himself on the couch, and he started reading.

He got lost in the story, as usual, and things were getting more interesting. Unexpected plot twist. Lovino loved those, he craved the suspense. As things got more intense, he slowly moved the book closer to his face so he wouldn't miss a word. He was so sucked in that he had a mini heart attack when he heard a door open. He looked over the back of the couch to see Matthew walking further down the hallway. Lovino went back to his book, the boy was just heading to the restroom.

But before he could get back into the story, he heard light sniffling. He looked back down the hallway and saw Matthew standing at Francis' bedroom door crying. Panic rose in Lovino's chest. Shit. He wasn't good with kids... Antonio was though. Lovino but the bookmark in his book, got up and walked over to the recliner where Antonio was sleeping.

"Antonio," He whispered, "Antonio, wake up!"

Antonio didn't move. He was too much of a heavy sleeper, there was no way he was waking up. Lovino looked to Feliciano, who was fast asleep in the love seat. Lovino considered waking him up, but, even though kids liked Feliciano, he didn't really know what to do besides entertain them. Lovino sighed and started down the hallway. He stopped a few steps away from Matthew and stood there awkwardly, not really sure what to say. Matthew clutched his polar bear to his chest and stayed silent. Finally, Lovino softly cleared his throat and whispered, "Hey, uh... Are you okay?"

Matthew tensed up and panicked, "I'm sorry I woke you, I'm fine!"

Lovino shifted his weight uncomfortably, "If you're fine, then why are you crying?"

Matthew seemed to cry even more, "I'm sorry!"

Lovino closed his eyes. He didn't hate kids, he just didn't really know what to do or say around them, it was always so awkward, but The poor boy was apologizing over nothing, so Lovino figured he should reassure him, "Um, no, it''s okay. I was already awake." Matthew didn't calm down, so Lovino continued, "Why are you crying?" Matthew only froze and said nothing. Lovino looked at the ceiling, trying to think of what to say next. "Are you hungry?"

Matthew shook his head, at least it was an answer. Lovino sighed, "Are you thirsty?" Every time the boy shook his head, Lovino got more frustrated, he wanted a straight answer, but Matthew wouldn't say anything. How did Francis deal with this? "Do you hurt? Are you sick?"

Another head shake. What else could be wrong? Lovino searched his memory and looked back at Matthew, "Did you have a nightmare?"

Matthew stayed still for a moment then slowly nodded. Finally, Lovino knew what was wrong, but now what? He tried to think of what his grandfather did to comfort him when he had nightmares when he was young.

"Come on, let's get you calmed down a bit." He said as he turned down the hallway.

Lovino led Matthew through the living and dining rooms and into the kitchen. He grabbed the chair from the corner and set it by the sink. "Go ahead and sit," He said, "Would you like some milk? That always calmed me down when I had nightmares."

Matthew cautiously climbed into the chair and nodded. Lovino walked to the refrigerator and got out the milk, "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?" He asked as he poured some milk into a small plastic cup. Matthew said nothing, and the constant silence was beginning to irritate Lovino. "I can't hear you shake your head." He said while putting the milk back.

"I'm sorry! No, I don't want to talk about it!" Matthew panicked.

Lovino turned and handed the cup to Matthew. "Are you sure? It seems to be bothering you."

"I'm sure."

Lovino leaned against the counter and tried to keep the conversation going to avoid awkwardness, "So, what were you doing in front of Francis' door?"

"I'm sorry!"

Lovino was already sick of hearing that. How could Francis live with this boy? Sure, he's sweet, but it was so hard to communicate. Though he was irritated, he forced himself to speak kindly, "You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong. Just answer the question."

Matthew took a tiny sip of his milk and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Francis told me if I needed anything, I could wake him."

"So why didn't you?"

Matthew looked at his feet and took his time to answer, "I was scared to."

Lovino raised his eyebrows, "Why? Has Francis done anything that would make you think he would hurt you?" Anger washed over him as he said the sentence, just the thought of Francis doing that made him furious.

Matthew sniffed, "No."

"Then why would you be scared? Doesn't make much sense."

Matthew just shrugged. The boy was impossible. How could anyone be good with kids? They make no sense. Lovino sighed and lifted his hand to scratch his forehead, when he did, Matthew flinched and dropped the cup onto the floor. Matthew immediately covered his face with his hands and raised his voice, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Lovino didn't know what to do, Matthew was crying again, and there was milk all over the floor. Finally he turned to Matthew, "Shh, it's okay. It's just milk. Just quiet down, you'll wake up the others."

Matthew did what he was asked and Lovino began cleaning up the mess. When he was done, looked at Matthew, "See? It wasn't that bad." Matthew just stared at the floor, still getting over what had happened. Lovino was beginning to feel tired, so he figured he should try to get Matthew back into bed. But after the incident, he couldn't just send the kid to bed alone.

"Do you want me to wake Francis up for you? Maybe it wouldn't be so scary."

Matthew nodded.

...

...

"Francis! Francis wake up!"

Francis rolled over and turned on his lamp to see Lovino. He propped himself up on his elbow and readjusted the oxygen tube under his nose, "What? What is it, Lovino?"

"Matthew had a nightmare and he wants to sleep with you,"

Francis looked over at the doorway and saw little Matthew standing there with his polar bear and pillow. Francis smiled, after months, Matthew trusted him enough to wake him up in the middle of the might. "That's fine. Thank you, Lovino."

Lovino turned to leave, "Good night, Matthew, sleep well." Then he closed the door behind him.

Matthew walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed up. "I'm sorry to wake you." he said as he laid down.

Francis smiled at him, "It's okay, I've told you many times that if you needed anything, you could wake me up."

Matthew didn't respond, but he looked so upset, Francis had to say something, "What was your nightmare about?"

Matthew looked as if he was going to cry, but he answered anyway, "My father."

Anger flooded Francis' mind. Matthew would have to face these kinds of problems for huge part of his childhood, and maybe well into his adolescence. How could anyone do that to a young, sweet boy?

Francis couldn't keep his hatred for Matthew's father in, "You know, I don't even know why you call him your father! He sure didn't act like one!"

Matthew tensed at the anger in Francis' voice, but didn't seem to panic, "Well, what should a father be like?"

Francis knew he was ranting, but he didn't care, "A father should take care of you! Make you feel better when you're sick, wipe your tears when you cry, comfort you when you're sad, give you food when you're hungry, and teach lessons about life, for starters!"

Matthew petted the fur on his polar bear nervously, "But... _You_ do all those things..."

Francis felt himself begin to calm, "Well, any caretaker should be like that." He explained.

There was a long silence, and Francis began to drift off into sleep, but Matthew spoke again, "Francis?"

"_Oui?_"

Matthew hesitated, "How do you say 'Dad' in French?"

"_Papa_." Francis answered, still half asleep.

"Francis?"

"_Oui_, Matthew?"

Matthew stayed quiet so long, Francis almost fell back asleep, "Can I call you 'Papa'?"

Francis wasn't sure he heard that right. He looked over at Matthew in surprise, "What?"

Matthew squeezed his polar bear, "Nevermind! I'm sorry!"

Francis shook his head, "No, no, it's okay, I just didn't hear you."

"... Can I... Call you 'Papa'? I mean... You do all those nice things..."

Francis smiled and ran his fingers through his son's dirty-blonde hair with joyful tears in his eyes, "_Oui_, Matthew. You can call me Papa if you would like."

Matthew tensed under Francis' hand, "Okay, good night, Papa."

Francis turned and clicked off his lamp, "Good night, my little Matthew."

...

_Days Later..._

...

Arthur carefully removed the bandage around his head. He brushed his bangs back and leaned closer to the mirror so he could get a better view of the stitches on his forehead. The gash and it's stitches looked better, not nearly as ugly as it had before. Alfred thought it looked cool though, and he found even more amazement that Arthur was hit by a car and had lived through it. Arthur had told Alfred that his survival did not mean he shouldn't be careful, and that the stitches were not "cool" or "awesome", but punishment for being reckless. Arthur sighed, placed cotton lightly on the stitches, wrapped the bandage around it, and pinned it in place. He had to do this twice a day to avoid infection, but it was so hard to keep up with the schedule, just like everything else.

Due to a possible concussion, Arthur was not allowed more than a half hour a sleep at a time for the past two days, so he figured that falling asleep would come easy, but it didn't. He laid in bed that night, silent tears streaming down his face and into his pillow. He felt nothing but his own shattered heart and how much he missed Kate.

_If only that car had killed me..._

Arthur could not let his mind wander to those dark thoughts. He got out of bed, left his room, marched down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He opened his liquor cabinet high above the stove, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, went to the cupboard next to it, and grabbed a glass. He walked over to the table, sat down, and poured himself a glass. He drank it swiftly, despite the burning in his throat, and poured himself another, and another, and more after that. Arthur needed to sleep, he hadn't been able to since Kate was diagnosed, and that was just over two years ago. He tried everything, listening to music, or calming sounds, reading before bed, sleeping pills, which he stayed away from due to the temptation of... Arthur could not let his mind wander to those dark thoughts, he poured himself another, and just before the glass touched his lips he heard a small voice say his name, "Daddy?" He put down the glass before he tasted the whiskey in it. _Bollocks. Really? Right now? _Arthur looked at the brown liquid and wondered how much he had already drank. Perhaps it was best that his son interrupted him.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"I can't sleep." Alfred whined.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and looked at Alfred, "And?"

Alfred's face twisted in confusion, "Uhh..."

Perhaps that wasn't the best response, rather, it was pretty rude. He had told Alfred everyday that he loved him, and cared about him, and he meant it, but sometimes, it didn't sound like it. In the same flat, emotionless voice he tried to recover himself from his cold reply, "Go out into the living room, I'll be there in a minute." Alfred only nodded wearily and walked away. Arthur sighed, finished his last drink, and followed his son, not caring enough to put the bottle or his glass away.

The room tilted slightly as Arthur walked into the living room. He grabbed onto the door frame and waited for the room to straighten. It seems he went a bit past his limit, but his head was still clear for the most part. He walked cautiously over to the couch and sat next to Alfred, "Now, why can't you sleep?" He forced himself to sound warmer, and to put a slight smile on his lips.

"I don't know, I just can't." Alfred was lying, Arthur wasn't completely sober, but he could still tell.

Arthur sighed, Alfred was a chatty, little boy, but if he didn't want to talk, it was nearly impossible to make him, "What's on your mind?"

Alfred looked down, "Can I skip school tomorrow?"

What a strange question, Alfred had never complained about school, in fact, he talked nonstop about Jett, Matthew, his teacher, and the activities they did in class. So, why so suddenly did he not want to go to school? Arthur's warm voice shifted into worry, "What? Why? You love school!" Alfred just shrugged. No, that wasn't an exceptional answer, "Do you feel ill?" Alfred only shook his head. Arthur continued venturing for possible explanations, "Are you being bullied or teased there?" Another head shake. Arthur could hear the irritation in his voice, "Then why, Alfred? If you love school so much, why don't you want to go?"

"Because you pick me up."

Arthur rolled his eyes. This was just because cool kids didn't get picked up by their parents? Arthur closed his eyes and tried his best not to sound angry and insulted, "If you rather ride the school bus, that's fine."

Alfred looked as though he was about to cry, "I don't want to ride the bus."

Arthur spoke smoother with concern, "That's the only way to get to and from school. You could walk, but it's a bit far. What else is there?"

Alfred broke in tears and yelled, "I want Mama to pick me up like she used to!"

Arthur felt his heart break into pieces. This was the first break-down since the world shattering phone call. Alfred was only six years old, and he didn't seem to understand it, but after six months, it hit him, he wasn't going to see his mother again. Arthur reached over, pulled Alfred onto his lap, and held him. Arthur said nothing. He couldn't make things better, he couldn't promise that life would return to normal, there wasn't a way to comfort his son. All he could do is let Alfred know that his father was there, and his father wouldn't leave him.

Arthur expected it to get better someday, but it seemed like that day was never going to come. To those he barely knew, Arthur flat-out lied, responding with a "I'm doing well," or "Good, how are you?" But, there where others who Arthur was closer to like Tino, Berwald, and his co-workers, Lukas and Drac, that would get something along the lines of, "I'm okay," or "Better."

It was frustrating. Whenever Arthur said those half hearted lies to his friends, they always told him "Don't worry," and "It'll get better," or sometimes they would say the worst thing Arthur could imagine, "Just be patient." Those words made Arthur angry beyond belief, especially that last one, every time he heard it he wanted to punch them in the mouth. He couldn't be mad at all his friends though, because even if Tino, Berwald, and Drac said these things, Lukas never did. Lukas seemed to have a few hardships in his life, and would usually just give a small, reassuring smile, and switch subjects like he had earlier that day. But, it did not matter what his friends say or didn't say, it was never going to get better. He was going to grow old alone and depressed. There was no way he was getting out of it.

...

_One Week Later..._

...

"I think I can read faster than you."

The static that Arthur's mind had been in was broken by his son's voice. He wondered how long he had been staring at the bag of rice he held in his hand. He tore his eyes away from it, trying to prevent himself from going back into the nothingness his mind had been in. "Hmm?"

Alfred tilted his head, "You've been reading that for a long time. I think I could read it faster."

Arthur forced himself to smile and play along, "Is that so?" he handed the bag to Alfred, "Then you try reading it."

Alfred took a moment as he examined it, "Nu... Nutr..."

"Nutritional." Arthur said slowly.

Alfred's head snapped back up and his voice grew louder in frustration, "How do you read these big words?"

"Well, I'm a teacher. I have to be pretty smart, don't I?" Arthur said playfully as he took the rice back and put it in the shopping basket.

Alfred began playing with a price tag on the shelf, "Yeah, I guess so."

Arthur turned back to the shelf, making sure he didn't need anything else from it. He was about to head out of the aisle when Alfred suddenly ran off, "Look, Daddy! It's Matthew!" Before Arthur could respond, Alfred was already on the other side of the aisle, blabbing to another young boy who was holding his father's hand. The look of surprise and confusion on the man's face gave Arthur a stab of guilt and embarrassment. He quickly paced down the aisle, as he approached, Alfred pointed at him, not taking his eye off of the other boy, "Oh, and Matthew! This is my daddy!"

Arthur looked from Alfred to the father, who stared at him as if he was pondering something. Their eyes locked for a moment until Arthur realized that he was just standing there, staring without a word. He cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly to break himself out of the trance, "I really do apologize for-"

"Arthur?" The man interrupted.

Arthur stopped his apology short, and his eyebrows narrowed, although the man looked familiar, Arthur couldn't quite place it. "I beg your pardon, but how do you know my name? I do not believe I know you."

"Oh, I..." The man trailed off as a guilty expression crossed his face. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously and continued his explanation awkwardly, "Uh... I was the one who... Almost killed you last week..."

Arthur did not meet the man that he decided not to press charges on, but Lain had. _Some French guy... Doesn't matter..._ Lain's only description of the man was vague, but it matched. The man spoke in an iconic French accent, which bothered Arthur more than he thought it would. He didn't know how to respond and found himself just staring again. Suddenly, Alfred broke the silence with a gasp, "Your daddy hit my daddy with a car? Why didn't you tell me?"

The boy, who must have been Matthew, hugged the polar bear in his arms tighter, "I'm sorry."

Alfred shook his head, "Hey, I was just wondering."

The man sighed, "I am sincerely and deeply sorry, Arthur, but I'm glad I'm I ran into you-" The man cut himself off and gave a light, stereotypical French laugh, "I mean, I'm glad I ran into you here, at the grocery store." The man continued to laugh nervously until he cleared his throat and smiled, "I was wondering how were doing? Perhaps it would put my guilt at ease."

Arthur didn't say anything, it was like he had forgotten how to speak.

_The man asked you a bloody question, answer it, damn it!_

"Oh, I'm fine, and no worries, I wasn't supposed to be crossing anyway."

The man's smile faded a bit, "You weren't hurt too badly were you?"

Arthur shook his head, "I was feeling pretty bad for the first few days, but I'm good as new now."

The man sighed again, "Oh, what a relief! I was worried!" There was an awkward silence and Arthur noticed that he was staring at the man again. Why the hell did he keep doing that? _Well, to give the man some credit, he is quite handsome... What?_ Arthur's heart rate increased when that thought crossed his mind. He hadn't thought that about another man since he fell in love with Kate. Perhaps it was time to go. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but the man continued, "Well, mon ami, do you remember my name?"

Arthur only had blurry glimpses of being hit, and he certainly didn't remember any of the conversation he may have had. "No, I'm afraid not."

The man smiled again and leaned a little closer, "I'm Francis."

Arthur couldn't help but smile and chuckle, "A man from _France_ named _Francis_?" he teased.

Francis teased back, "And I'm sure you're named after King Arthur?"

Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Oh, how did you ever figure it out? You certainly got me!"

Francis looked down at Alfred, who was chatting away to Matthew, he looked back up, his grin wider, "It looks like they're getting along."

Arthur nodded, not quite sure why Francis was smiling so big at the small talk, "Yes, Alfred talks about Matthew quite often, as his friend."

"Friend?" Francis looked back down at his son, "Matthew, why didn't you tell me you were making friends at school?" When Matthew only shrugged, Francis shook his head in exasperation, and lifted his sight back to Arthur, "Well, maybe the four of us should get together sometime. In fact, we could get someone to watch over them and we could go out to dinner."

"That would be..." Arthur trailed off when he realized what Francis had asked. His heart picked up speed again as he noticed the slight urge to agree. _Why not?_ Francis was a very attractive man, his smile was bright and full of life, his hair was long and looked soft to the touch, and his eyes were deep and blue as the ocean. _No._ Just because Kate is gone, doesn't mean he's free. He is morning. This would not be a logical step. Right? _But, why not?_ Perhaps it was best. Just because Kate is dead doesn't mean he should be alone and depressed forever, he deserved more than that. He deserved much more than that. Arthur picked up his sentence, "That would be brilliant. My brother Lain doesn't live far from here, he could take care of Alfred and Matthew while we are gone. When is the best time for you?"

Francis looked a tad surprised, but his eyes glew with happiness, "Well, we could meet at their school on Friday, and I can just follow you to your house? Then, I can drive you to this nice, Italian restaurant on Victoria Street?"

Arthur wasn't quite sure why he was doing this, "Sounds all good to me."

Francis reached down and took Matthew's hand, "Well, I'll see you then, _mon ami_, I'm afraid that's all the time I have for now." Francis winked as he walked off, _"Au revoir!_"

"Good bye, Matthew!" Alfred exclaimed. Matthew turned in his direction and waved.

"Good bye." Arthur was left there staring at the shelf that Francis had been standing in front of.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"How long is it going to take for you to read the price tag?"

...

...

...

Translations:

Non conosco il numero di emergenza: (Italian)- I do not know the emergency number

Mio Dio: (Italian)- My God

Mon Ami: (French)- My Friend

Other Notes:

Nine-Nine-Nine: Emergency number hotline in England

Drac and Lukas are Romania and Norway. They will be seen in later chapters.


	5. Chapter 5

_..._

_Friday..._

...

"This is a bad idea."

Lain's voice broke the static of nothingness in Arthur's mind and brought him back to reality in the school parking lot. He blinked a few times and looked at his brother absently, "Hmm?"

Lain's eyebrows pulled together slightly in worry and tilted his head, "Should you even be driving?"

Every word that his brother said made Arthur closer and closer to committing homicide. He close his eyes briefly, due to the fights with his parents, and his other brothers, he was quite used to swallowing his anger and thinking logically, "I'm not driving, I'm parked."

Lain stared at him blankly, "You know what I meant. How's your concentration?"

Arthur looked away from his brother and ahead to the windshield. He did not want this criticism and his temper was thinning because of it, but maybe if he looked away, he wouldn't be so angry.

"It's fine, git, leave me alone." He snapped.

Lain sighed, and Arthur could see him shake his head in the corner of his eye as an awkward silence fell.

"This is a bad idea."

Arthur turned to his brother again, "What? What's so bad? Am I really that bad of a driver?"

Lain sounded like he was trying to speak calmly but his face was still full of irritation, "I'm talking about this… _Date_ you have."

Arthur stared ahead again, "I know."

Lain gave a snort of laughter, "Wow, I expected you to hit me! So, why are you doing this?"

Arthur beamed another glare, "Leave me alone! You are here to spend time with your nephew, not bother me with these rather rude questions!"

"Yes, because calling me a 'git' wasn't rude at all!"

Before the fight could go anywhere, Alfred opened the door to the back seat, already talking, "So, Matthew is, like, _super_ excited to come over!"

Arthur forced himself to swallow his anger and smile. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw Matthew getting into the car behind him. He put the car in drive and moved forward a bit, and the car behind him began to follow.

"Well, that's brilliant, Alfred."

Lain turned in his seat to Afred with a gentle smile, "Hey, Alfie, how was school?"

Arthur could hear the excitement that Alfred always had in his voice as he gasped, "You're picking me up from school too! That's great! And school was great! My teacher teached me a new word!"

The incorrect grammar of a six year old always bothered Arthur to wit's end, but he always made sure to correct Alfred kindly. "_Taught_, Alfred."

"Oh. Okay. My teacher _taught_ me a new word today then."

Lain fidgeted in his seat, trying to make his twisted position more comfortable, "What was it?"

Alfred thought for a moment and said the word slowly so he could pronounce it correctly, "_Sayōnara_. It means good bye! Isn't that awesome?"

Arthur nodded, "That is pretty awesome, Alfred. You seem to have a knack for foreign languages."

Alfred chatted away to his uncle the whole way home about nothing and everything, as he usually did. When Arthur parked in the driveway, Alfred immediately got out and ran up to the car that had parked behind him. Arthur and Lain stepped out of the car as well and slowly made their way over. Francis was already standing in the driveway, smiling at Alfred, who kept on talking. Francis wore brown trousers, a nice, blue shirt that wasn't quite buttoned up all the way, and when he turned his head, Arthur noticed that his hair was tied back low and loose by a shiny red ribbon. "_Bonjour_, Arthur and, ah… Mr. Kirkland!" He said, cheerfully.

Lain snapped a glare at Arthur, "The French guy who hit you with a car? This is who you're having dinner with?"

Arthurs cheeks burned with embarrassment, "Excuse Lain, he is-" Arthur cut himself off and paused to prevent himself from cursing, "-Not good at first impressions."

Francis' smile only brightened, "No, no, I understand. It is rather complicated." he looked at Arthur up and down and his smile turned fake, "You look nice."

Arthur looked down on himself and was suddenly aware of his black shoes, black slacks, black shirt, black over coat, and black tie. He laughed nervously and cleared his throat, "Thanks, but this is what I was working in, I'll go and change into something else, so lets go inside." He turned away and started up the driveway.

Once in his room, Arthur rummaged through his closet for something with color on it, which was harder than Arthur thought, but eventually, he found his green sweater vest, a white undershirt, and tan slacks. He took off his suit and undershirt and happened to glance in the mirror across from his bed. He faced the mirror, raised his arms and inhaled deeply. He was light weight before, but now that he saw his own rib cage though his skin, he was now definitely under normal wight. He hadn't been eating right, to say the least. He walked up to the mirror and took a close look at his face, which was stained with a tired expression. He hadn't been sleeping well, to say the least. But, maybe that would change. To be honest, he was distracted from his grief, cared about his image, and had not felt this much emotion in what seems a lifetime ago. Perhaps this wasn't a bad idea after all…

...

...

Arthur's palms sweated on the menu in his hands. This was so painfully awkward, and he so was umbelivingly nervous that the waiter nearly scared him out of his seat, "Are we ready to order, sir?" This had been the third time the waiter asked that, Francis ordered the first time, and Arthur couldn't remember what, nor could he remember what was on the menu that he had been too nervous to comprehend the writing on, but he could remember that the restaurant was Italian.

"I'll have the spaghetti." Arthur said. After all, what kind of Italian restaurant doesn't have spaghetti?

The waiter nodded and scribbled on his notepad, "And anything else, gentlemen?"

Arthur and Francis shared a glance before looking back at the waiter and saying "No." simultaneously with smiles across their faces. When the waiter left, Francis turned to Arthur, his smile bright, but awkward, "So, you mentioned work, where do you work where you wear nothing but black? The funeral home?" He teased.

Arthur felt more embarrassment from earlier, but shrugged it off with a small chuckle, and a dose of sarcasm "Quite, quite, I love hearing the sound of crying." He let his chuckle fade as he gave the true answer, "I am a high school history teacher."

Francis rolled his eyes, "Dammit. I was in this for the money!" He was trying to look serious, but it seemed that his grin tugged on his lips too much.

Arthur could feel his worries slipping away faster than he had imagined. He chuckled louder and covered his smile with his hand. He took a sip of his water as he gathered himself and looked back to Francis' deep blue eyes, "What about you? Work in the morgue?"

Francis looked up as if choosing his words carefully before the fell back to Arthur, "Nah, thought about it though…" His teasing smile turned into a light hearted one, "I create templates on the computer for other companies to use. It's kind of boring, but I work at home, and it is quite mind numbing." Francis glanced down at the table and his eyes widened, "Uh, Arthur?"

Arthur looked at him innocently, "Hmm?"

"Are you married?"

Arthur quickly looked at the wedding ring on his left hand and his heart sunk. Reality settled back in, and his mind began fading into static again.

"Arthur?"

Arthur snapped his head back up, looked at Francis, and took a deep inhale, gaining the courage to speak the words, "No, I'm a widower. Sorry for the confusion, but…"

Although Arthur trailed off, Francis continued his sentence, "Haven't had the courage to take the ring off?" Arthur didn't say anything, but Francis' smile grew understanding and warm, but sad, "That's a coincidence, I'm a widower too."

Relief had never hit Arthur so hard. All this time, he had no one ever understand, they pretended to understand him, but they never could. "I am very sorry for you, Francis," He started with a light laugh, "But, that's sort of reliving, I never really had someone..."

"Understand?" Francis finished. Arthur said nothing and Francis looked at him up and down then tilted his head, "You don't have to answer, but, may I ask how?"

Arthur hated the blasted word, "Leukemia." he said quickly, hoping it would be less painful.

Francis nodded, "I'm so sorry, I hear that one is quite tragic." He ended the sentence awkwardly, and continued after a sad sigh, "There was a fire at my old apartment back in France, and she died of smoke ventilation after being trapped for too long."

The horrible story nearly broke Arthur's heart, "I'm so sorry."

Francis' teasing expression came back unexpectedly, "Why? Did you start the fire?"

Arthur teased back, "Only because you got Kate sick!" Although it sounded painful, it actually felt nice to laugh some of the pain off.

Arthur learned that Francis had actually adopted Matthew, and the circumstances that Matthew had been in. Francis loved to cook, but couldn't find a place where he could use creativity, so it became more of a hobby for him. He had one older brother, Antonio, and two younger twin brothers, Lovino and Feliciano. Unlike Arthur, Francis gets along with his family, and when Arthur said that his family disowned him, Francis said that he "Must be some sort of black sheep."

Arthur learned that Francis must be very emotionally strong, too. Francis never met his grandmother, his parents died when he was very young, the grandfather who raised him, and his brothers, died when Francis was seventeen, and on top of all that, he became a widower when he was twenty-four, and had been basically living by himself for two years. Yet, despite all that tragedy, Francis' had one of the brightest, and warmest smiles Arthur had ever seen.

The annoying accent and stereotypical laugh aside, the dinner passed too quickly, and Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had fully enjoyed himself like this. He hadn't smiled this easily, or laughed this loudly in what felt like decades, and it was as if all his problems were distant.

Before he knew it, Arthur was back on his porch, about to open his front door, but instead he turned around and smiled kindly, "I want to thank you for tonight, Francis, it's the best I've felt in…" Arthur trailed off, he didn't want to think of the past few years of misery, so he just summed it up, "A long time."

Francis sighed contently, "Anything I can improve?"

The question threw Arthur off, and he didn't know how to answer, after a short silence, he settled on teasing, after all, Francis seemed to enjoy that, "Well, your laugh is quite painfully stereotypical."

"Well, your smile is." Francis joked back, however the look on his face was a bit different than it was before.

"I resent that, my smile is just fine, thank you." Falling into purposeful, meaningless arguments was more entertaining than Arthur had thought.

Francis' smile should have been a taunting one, but instead, it was warm, "Well, can you prove that? You always cover your mouth when you smile big, I wonder, is that because you have bad teeth like all Englishmen do?"

That was a bit much but Arthur didn't let it insult him too badly, "No, it is a quirk, nothing more."

Francis leaned a bit closer, "Then prove it." Arthur showed Francis a wide grin. Francis looked at him for a moment then shrugged, "Ah, you're right… _Beautiful_."

Arthur's smile dropped as he felt his cheeks blush. Of course, that explained Francis' warm expression while he was taunting. Arthur glared at him, "You set that one up!"

Francis leaned closer, "That doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

Francis was getting too close for Arthur's liking, he leaned himself against the front door to gain space, "I bet you said that to everyone else."

Francis raised his hand and rested it just under Arthur's ear, "Doesn't mean I lied." He said as he leaned into a kiss.

Arthur's first impulse was to slap the frog, but for a moment, all of Arthur's worries disappeared. He ended up kissing back, and it was like there was nothing else in the world, he didn't even feel the front door on his back anymore, and he felt like he was falling… Or was he actually falling?

Arthur felt himself slam onto the floor and Francis land on top of him. Arthur's world spun for a moment as he tried to figure out how the bloody hell he ended up on the ground.

"Should I knock next time?"

Arthur looked up to see Lain above them. Arthur chuckled nervously and gave his brother an innocent smile, "Lain! W-what are you doing here?"

Lain raised an eyebrow, "Watching over my nephew and his friend."

Arthur had never felt more embarrassed in his life, he tried desperately to swallow it and build composure, but it didn't work, "Oh, right, I meant, what are you doing at the front door?"

"Taking out the garbage." Lain said as if it were obvious.

Arthur tilted his head and smiled sweetly, "Oh, you didn't have to do that! You're too kind!"

Lain rolled his eyes and called over his shoulder, "Matthew, your father is here." Then he stepped over them, "Get off the damn floor."

Francis looked down at Arthur, "Well, that was awkward!" He got up, and held out his hand, "I didn't hurt you did I? I think you elbow ran into your ribs."

Arthur took Francis hand and lifted himself up, "No, no, I'm fine."

Francis looked over as Matthew slowly walked into the room. He immediately took Francis' hand and buried his face into his leg. Francis chuckled, "Well, you look tired, did you have fun with Alfred?" Matthew yawned in reply and Francis looked at Arthur, "Well, shall we do this again?"

Arthur was casual, but he didn't hesitate is answer, "Yes, that would be very nice. When?"

Francis shrugged, "You're a teacher, right? Are Fridays easy?"

Arthur sighed, "Not this Friday, I have papers being turned in, I'll be too busy grading." Arthur could see it in Francis' eyes, what he said sounded like an excuse. "But, I could push the due date to Monday. I'm sure the procrastinators will be thrilled."

Francis' eyes lit up with all the life they had before, "Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden, I mean, it is your work."

How could Arthur deny those hopeful eyes? "Yeah, don't worry about it, mate. I do believe I have your number, I'll keep you posted if something comes up, and we'll schedule when and where later."

Francis nodded and looked down at Matthew, who was resting his eyes, "Well, we better get going before he falls over." Francis flashed him one last, bright smile and turned for the door, "_Au revoir_, Black Sheep."

"Good bye, Frog." Arthur watched them walk down the porch and past Lain, who was enjoying a cigarette, get into their car and leave.

Arthur stared after them long enough for Lain to finish smoking. His brother turned towards him, "Tell Alfie I said bye, I'm heading home."

Arthur didn't respond and closed the door. He walked into the living room to find Alfred asleep on the couch. He picked Alfred up, and Alfred wrapped his arms around his neck, "Daddy, can I sleep in your bed?" he groaned.

Arthur stared up the stairs, he didn't remember it being so hard, "You're getting too big for this, and yes, you can sleep in my bed."

Alfred yawned, "You won't fall asleep before me, right? I get scared when I'm alone."

Arthur turned on his bedroom light with his elbow, "I'm quite sure I won't fall asleep before you, you're already half asleep as it is."

Arthur reached down with one hand and pulled back some of the covers and laid Alfred down. He pulled the covers over him, bent down, and kissed Alfred on the forehead, "I love you, Alfred."

Alfred turned onto his side, "Night, Daddy, love you too." He mumbled.

Arthur got ready for bed, lied down, turned off the light, and slept better than he had in two whole years.

_..._

_Next Week, Thursday_

...

Francis sat down in the chair on his porch as he listened to the dial tone. Arthur hadn't called as he promised, so Francis was going to call him. How dumb, he felt like a silly, insecure high school girl. This was just ridiculous, he was a twenty-six year old man, not a little girl. But just before Francis hung up, Arthur answered on the other end, "Hello?"

Francis disappointment immediately disappeared and was replaced by joy. He smiled and spoke kindly into the phone, "_Bonjour_, Arthur! Uh, I called wondering about tomorrow."

Arthur sighed, "Oh, bollocks. I told you I'd keep you updated on that, didn't I?"

Arthur's voice was different than it was last week, but perhaps it was because of the phone, everyone sounds a little different over the phone. "_Oui_, but no worries, you were probably busy… So, you don't have too many papers to grade, do you?"

Arthur's voice sounded expressionless and empty, "No, I was able to move the due date."

Francis laughed lightly, "Oh, good. Are we still good for tomorrow then?"

Arthur hesitated, "I am very sorry, Francis, but I am not feeling well."

Lie. Why was there a need to lie? Weren't they mature adults? Francis said slowly and nicely, "Why are you lying to me?"

Arthur sounded genuinely surprised, "Wh-what? Why would you think that? I may be an asshole sometimes, but I'm not a liar!"

Francis thought for a moment, he had to, he really enjoyed Arthur company, and didn't want to ruin this.

_Six months, Arthur has only been a widower for six months._

Francis could remember the first months without Joanne. It was hard to get motivation, he couldn't concentrate, dealt with guilt, and was sleep deprived. Saying that he "Didn't feel well" during that time was an understatement. Francis smiled warmly, "I'm sorry, I assumed you meant you were feeling ill, but that's not it, is it?"

"I'm not feeling well, but I can reschedule." It wasn't a direct answer, but Francis knew what it meant.

Francis made sure his words came out gently, "I understand, Arthur, believe me. I know it's hard, but getting out will help. I mean, you told me that last week was the best you've felt in a long time, remember?"

There was a long silence, but finally Arthur spoke, "Okay, what do you want to do?"

Francis smiled in his relief, "Well, I picked last time."

"Francis, I don't even feel up to…" Arthur finished his sentence with an exasperated sigh.

"Do you still have your bow?"

"What?"

Francis leaned back in his chair, "You said that you used to shoot in archery. Maybe we could go to the shooting range, and you could teach me."

Francis could hear a smile in Arthur's voice, "Yeah, okay. I haven't shot in a while, but it was very stress relieving. That's a brilliant idea, Francis. But I do have one problem."

"Hmm?"

Arthur almost sounded guilty, "Lain will be stuck at work, and I don't really have anyone to watch over Alfred and Matthew."

Francis shook his head as if Arthur could see him, "No problem, I talked to my neighbor and friend, Ludwig, incase something like that came up. He'll be able to watch over them."

"Alright. Oh, and make sure to wear something more casual."

Why casual wear? Wasn't it just archery? It wasn't like they were playing football. "_Oui_, whatever you say, you're the archer."

"And I guess I'll just follow you home this time?"

Francis chuckled a little, "Sounds good to me, Artie."

Arthur sounded irritated, "If you don't call me 'Artie' then I wont call you 'Frank', deal?"

Francis laughed harder than he should have, "Okay, okay, deal."

There was a short silence before Arthur broke it awkwardly, "Well… I guess I'll see you tomorrow…"

"_Oui_, see you then, Black Sheep."

Arthur seemed to get irritated quite easily, but as frustrating as that sounded, it was more hilarious than anything, "Why do you call me that?"

Francis teased, "What? What's wrong with Black Sheep? That's a compliment! Normal people are boring!"

Arthur sighed in exasperation, "Fine, good bye, Frog."

"_Au revoir_."

Francis hung up the phone and smiled contently, it seems like this was going to work out.

...

_Friday_

...

Francis and Arthur walked into a long, narrow room where their rented lane was. Arthur paced over and set the big, black case on the small table in the corner and opened it up. Francis stood behind him and looked over his shoulder. It had a simple green bow, six arrows, and a tube-like thing. "What's that?" Francis said, pointing to the tube.

Arthur took it out, and placed five of the six arrows inside of it, "It's called a quiver."

Francis tilted his head, "What does it do?"

Arthur clipped the quiver onto his right belt loop, "It holds your arrows." Arthur grabbed the bow from inside the case and began walking down the lane.

"What kind of bow is that?" Francis asked, keeping in Arthur's pace.

"A compound bow. It's what is used in many competitions."

They both fell silent as they passed multiple lines on the floor reading the distance from the target in meters. Arthur stopped at the twenty-five meter mark and turned to Francis, "It's been two years since I've done this, so let me shoot a few to regain my bearings."

Francis took a few steps back and gestured to the multicolored target, "Of course, go ahead."

Arthur turned sideways, grabbed an arrow, clipped it onto the string, and leveled the bow in his left hand, with his arm straight. He pulled back the string and stayed perfectly still for a few moments before the arrow flew into the target so fast, it took Francis a second to realize that Arthur had released the string. The arrow stuck into the outer yellow ring, it was hard to believe that Arthur hadn't practiced in two years, it was almost dead center. Arthur repeated the motions with the other four remaining arrows, all of them landing no farther than the inner red ring. Arthur looked at the target and sighed in frustration, "Bollocks, I'm rusty."

Francis didn't understand, Arthur's aim seemed amazing, "Rusty? That is very good, from what I understand of the sport!"

Arthur looked at Francis with a disappointed expression, "I started this when I was seven, so I was much better before."

Francis was beginning to learn that Arthur was overly self critical, which was something that Francis was used to by now, with Antonio, Ludwig and especially Matthew around. Francis knew all he needed to do was say the right thing. "Well, I can't judge, I've never done this before, and will probably suck at it."

Arthur shrugged and handed the bow over to Francis, "Hold this while I retrieve the arrows, please."

Francis took the bow in his hands and examined it. His original thought was a bow with sights and other sorts of gadgets on it, but it was plain. "I thought you would have more equipment." He said, looking up.

Arthur shook his head as he pulled the arrows out of the target, "No, others use grips and gloves, but they only got in the way for me." Arthur spun around, walked to the ten meter line, and motioned Francis over, "Let's start you here."

Francis walked over to where Arthur was standing and looked at the target. It seemed at point-blank range compared to the twenty-five meters. Perhaps this would be easier than he had thought. Arthur sighed and ran his fingers through his messy blonde hair, looking as if he didn't know where to begin until he looked up, "Are you right-handed or left-handed?" he asked. Francis smiled and waved with his right hand silently. Arthur nodded, "Well, that makes things easier, this is a right-handed bow."

Francis brushed back his hair behind his right ear, "But weren't you holding it in your left hand?"

Arthur took the quiver off his hip and handed it to Francis, "A right-handed bow means you pull back the bowstring with your right hand."

"Oh." Francis took the quiver and snapped it onto is right belt loop.

"Now," Arthur began, "First off is your stance." He moved to Francis' right and faced him, "Straddle the line with your feet about shoulders' width apart."

Francis looked at his feet as he did so, and back to Arthur for approval. Arthur nodded and pointed at Francis' left foot, directing his attention to it, "Angle your left foot a bit more askew than the other.

Francis did as he was told, "This feels weird."

Arthur chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes, "I'm way too used to this to know how that feels." Francis glanced back at Arthur and their eyes locked for a moment. Arthur cleared his throat and continued, "Hold the bow at shoulders' level so your arm is straight."

Francis awkwardly picked the bow up so that his wrist was level with his shoulder. When he did, he heard chuckling. He glared at Arthur, who had his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Francis snapped.

Arthur's laughter got a little worse as he choked though his words and pointed at the bow, "You're holding it upside-down."

Francis looked back at his hand in his embarrassment, "Oh, whoopsie." He flipped the bow in his hand as Arthur quickly recovered from his laughing.

Arthur got closer and touched a small, white tab on the string, "You see this rubber piece here?"

Francis nodded, "Uh-huh."

Arthur was growing more casual and more relaxed, just like dinner last week. Francis had almost forgotten the ups and downs of awkwardness in the beginning of a relationship. It had been so long, it actually made Francis feel a little old. He looked at Arthur, who eyes were lit up with interest and passion. Nothing was more beautiful than someone talking about something they loved, and for Arthur, that was teaching and archery. He head never been more beautiful.

"Are you listening?"

Francis' daydreaming ended. He blinked fastly and immediately recovered, "Oh, I'm sorry, I was lost in your eyes."

Arthur's eyes widened and his cheeks turned pink. He tore his eyes away and tapped the rubber tab, grabbing Francis' attention again. "The-the rubber piece is called the 'knock', as I said a moment ago. You place two or three fingers under it and pull back on the bowstring." Arthur said his words fastly, trying to ignore Francis' compliment. Francis could tell, that it wasn't that he didn't care, he was just awkward when it came to these kind of things, and Francis found it absolutely adorable.

Francis didn't want to get caught not paying attention again, so he placed his index, middle, and ring fingers under the knock and pulled the string back, as Arthur instructed. "Like this?"

Arthur shifted his weight uncomfortably, "That brings me to the next step: Anchor points." Arthur took his three fingers and put them up to his mouth, "Your fingers should only go as far as the corner of your mouth." Francis pulled the bowstring back further to the corner of his mouth. Arthur nodded in approval, "Very good, now draw down."

"Huh?"

Arthur closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, "Sorry, put the bowstring back into place."

Francis did what was asked of him as Arthur pulled out an arrow from the quiver on Francis' hip. "Now, let's add the arrow, shall we?" Arthur pointed the arrow to the ground and touched one of the foam flaps on the end, "These are called fletchings, they help the arrow fly straight."

Francis noticed that all of the fletchings were green, except the middle one, which is blue. He pointed at the blue one, "Why is that one blue? Decoration?"

"You point the blue one outwards when you clip it onto the bowstring," Arthur explained, "They have to be in a certain position so it will fly where you want it to go."

Francis was shocked of how much had to be perfect. It almost sounded like if he made one mistake, the arrow would suddenly fly into the ceiling.

"There is more to this than I thought." He said.

Arthur smiled tauntingly, "This isn't rocket science, you know."

Francis tried to glare, but he ended up smiling playfully. Arthur handed the arrow to him, "Click the arrow just under the knock," Francis put the arrow into place as Arthur continued, "When you pull back the bowstring, place your fingers below the arrow, and draw back to your anchor point." Francis was amazed of how much he had understood of Arthur's sentence. Teaching him step-by-step worked very well. Francis wondered if Arthur used a similar technique in his classroom.

Francis pulled back the bowstring, "Now what?"

Arthur spoke calmly, "Aim, exhale, and let the string slip from your fingers."

Didn't sound too hard, especially at point-blank range. Francis pointed the arrow to the center of the target. He exhaled, and relaxed his fingers. To his surprise, the arrow went over the target, and into the wall behind it.

"What?" he exclaimed, "How did I miss that? I'm only ten meters away!"

Arthur smiled in amusement, "There is strategy to this. You're going to have to aim a bit lower."

Francis took the next arrow and put into placed on the bowstring. He aimed where he had earlier, and dropped it lower. He exhaled and let the string roll off his fingers. Instead, the arrow stuck into the floor in front of the target.

Arthur snickered quietly, "A little goes a long way, keep in mind."

A bit frustrated, Francis grabbed the third arrow and repeated the ritual. This time, the arrow landed on the very edge of the white. Francis grinned, he actually hit the target that time. Excited, he turned to Arthur, "How many points is that?"

"Good job, Francis, you got one point."

Arthur's words were a bit discouraging, but Francis looked on the bright side, "At least I hit it!"

Prideful of his success, Francis positioned the fourth arrow, and pulled back the string. He aimed where he did with the third arrow and released. The arrow hit the target, but the bowstring snapped Francis' forearm. His arm stung so bad, that he almost dropped the bow. "_Mon dieu!_ Ow! What did I do that time?"

Arthur covered his mouth as he laughed, as he always did, "Your anchor point was angled more to the right. You need to keep you hand against your cheek."

Francis rolled his eyes, "Fine, fine, lesson learned, you can stop laughing."

Arthur seemed to force himself to swallow his laughter, "I'm sorry… Don't rush, take your time to aim and concentrate."

Francis gave Arthur one last glare, took the last arrow, placed it under the knock, pulled the bowstring back to the corner of his mouth, aimed, concentrated, exhaled, and let go. The arrow flew into the inner black ring. Francis looked at Arthur, "How much is that?"

"Four."

Francis shrugged, "It wasn't so hard after I cleared my mind."

Arthur smiled gently, "All it takes is patience"

...

...

"I almost hit the red! I think I'm getting the knack of this!" Francis exclaimed as he stepped onto his porch. It was another evening of teasing and laughing, and Francis enjoyed his time with Arthur. Francis was a bit weary in the beginning, he was afraid that Arthur would hold a grudge due to Francis hitting him with a car, but everything seemed to be working out. Francis hadn't felt this happy in years. He had his brothers, his friends, his son, and now Arthur… Francis had moved to England for a new life, and it was turning out great.

Arthur followed Francis up the stairs, "We should go again, I forgot how good it felt to shoot."

Francis turned to Arthur when he reached the door, "Thank you for teaching me, I've never been that good at sports, but I wasn't too bad today."

Arthur teased, "Beginner's luck."

Francis wanted to tease back, but he ended up just staring at him. He felt like he could let his guard down, and talk to Arthur about anything. Whatever he said, he knew that Arthur would understand.

"What are you staring at?"

Francis smiled contently, still gazing at Arthur, "Your gorgeous, green eyes that shine in the moonlight."

Arthur seemed to be taken by surprise every time Francis complimented him, but, then again, Arthur was disowned by most of his own family, he was probably only used to hearing insults. Francis' chest tightened with nervousness as he leaned forward and kissed Arthur sweetly on the cheek. His chest tightened more when he said his next sentence with complete honesty, "_Je t'aime_, Arthur."

Arthur looked at him quizzically, "I only speak French well enough to give directions to tourists, Francis. I'm not familiar with that phrase."

Francis kissed Arthur on the cheek again, and whispered in his ear, "I love you, Arthur."

Arthur turned his head and looked at him in shock. After a moment, Arthur's expression changed somewhat, almost as if he was realizing something. Francis regretted saying it, perhaps he should have waited longer to tell Arthur that, since he's cautious. But Francis couldn't blame him, he has only been a widower for just over six months, and suddenly he was dating again. But, just before Francis could reassure Arthur that he didn't have to reply, Arthur spoke quietly.

"I… I love you too…"

...

...

...

Translations

Sayōnara: (Japanese)- Goodbye

Je t'aime: (French)- I love you

Other Notes:

If you are looking for endless, real, fights, you've come to the wrong place, their harsh words are nothing but teasing and joking.


	6. Chapter 6

_..._

_One Month Later…_

...

Arthur parked his car in Francis' driveway and hopped out with a newfound beat in his step. Things were so much better than they were before, even if he felt guilty and scared sometimes. He feared that he wasn't actually in love with Francis, but just trying to fill a hole left by Kate, but, now he figured if that was true, he wouldn't feel so happy. He would still be losing sleep and his weight instead of gaining it, still be wearing black, and still be considering those sleeping pills. Although he mourned, he was a much happier person now. He had his friends, nice neighbors, son, and now Francis, he was building a new life, and it seemed like everything was working out.

The autumn leaves spun in the wind as thunder from an upcoming storm clashed, but despite the threatening bad weather, Arthur strolled up the driveway and to the front door which he pounded on. He made himself scowl, "Open up, you bloody frog!" He called through the door.

After a few moments, the door swung open, and there stood Francis, his handsome face replicating Arthur's expression, "Oh, what are _you_ doing here?"

Arthur smiled playfully, "I'm looking for a frog, have you seen him?"

Francis smiled back, "Why? So you can turn him into a prince with a kiss?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Sounds bloody disgusting to me!" He exclaimed as he pushed past Francis into his house.

Francis chuckled and closed the door just before thunder clashed again, "How was work?" He asked.

Arthur took off his jacket and tie and hung them up on the coat rack, "I had to talk to a student after class today."

Francis sat down on the sofa across the room, "What about?"

Arthur plopped down next to him with an exasperated sigh, "Homework. I swear to God, he refuses to do any of it."

Francis shrugged, "Well, we need someone to dig our ditches."

"I suppose so."

Arthur laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. As energetic as he felt moments ago, he hadn't realized how tired he was. He actually felt himself drift into a light doze when Francis' voice brought him back, "You alright?"

Arthur picked his head up, "Yeah, I'm just tired."

Francis ran his fingers through Arthur's messy hair, "Are you sure?"

Arthur smiled at him, despite how annoying Francis could be, he was very sweet, "Yes, I'm sure."

Francis took his hand away and turned to him more, "I forgot to tell you something."

"Hmm?"

Francis fixed his hair nervously, "I'm sorry, but, Feliks, Matthew's social worker, will be here soon. He kinda needs to meet you since you spend so much time with us."

Arthur yawned, "Oh, that's okay, a bit forewarning would have been nice though. When will he be here?"

Francis gave a guilty expression, "Any minute, basically."

Arthur nodded sleepily and leaned his head on Francis' shoulder. Francis wrapped his arm around Arthur and kissed him on his head. Arthur closed his eyes and fell into a light, content sleep. Thunder clapped loudly and rain pelted the roof. Arthur gasped as he jolted out of his sleep, his heart racing in his chest. Francis rubbed his side and laughed, "Scared?" He asked.

Arthur sat up out of Francis arm, "No!" He said, rebuilding his composure. But, to Francis' amusement, a loud knock at the door made Arthur jump, "Oh, bloody hell!"

Francis laughed again as he headed for the door. Just before he opened it you could hear a muffled voice, "You have to let me in! It's, like, _pouring_ out here!"

Francis opened the door, "_Bonjour_, Feliks!"

A man with long blonde hair rushed in, "_Halo_, thanks for letting me in, the rain totally came out of nowhere!" The man spoke in a light Polish accent. He hung his coat, revealing a black suit and a pink tie. "I need to start watching the forecasts more often!" He said.

Francis chuckled and gestured to the living room, "Come sit down. Would you like some coffee?"

Feliks sighed in relief, "Coffee would be nice, I-" Feliks stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Arthur, "Who's this?"

Arthur stood as Francis answered, "This is my boyfriend, Arthur Kirkland."

That took Arthur off guard, he wasn't used to referring to each other in that way. Besides Ludwig and Lain, Arthur hadn't talked to anyone about it. He looked at Feliks and offered a hand to shake, "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Łukasiewicz." Arthur had known that he would eventually meet Matthew's social worker, so he practiced the rather difficult surname often.

Feliks just looked at him, "I know that name." Francis began to answer, but Feliks cut him off, "Don't tell me!" After a few uncomfortable moments of Feliks staring at Arthur, Feliks snapped his fingers excitedly, "You're the guy who Francis hit! Strange of you two to hook up."

Francis laughed his stereotypical, French laugh, and turned away, "Yeah, kind of weird, I'll get you your coffee."

Feliks sat down in the chair across from the sofa, where Arthur sat back down, "So how long have you two been together?"

Arthur looked at the ceiling, thinking, "About a month."

"What kind of work do you do?" Feliks' questions sounded overused, as if he had asked them a thousand times.

Arthur gave a friendly smile, "I am a high school history teacher."

Feliks glanced down, then back up, "And you are married?"

Arthur felt a stab of pain when he realized he was fiddling with his wedding ring through the awkwardness, "No, I'm a widower." His heart sunk, it was still hard to say those words.

"Oh, sorry to bring it up." Arthur could tell that Feliks' apology wasn't sincere, almost as if he hadn't believed Arthur's words. But, with what Matthew had gone through, Arthur could understand Feliks' suspicion and caution. Arthur stared off, his mind slipping into that static that wasn't visited nearly as often than before. The static broke when Feliks snapped his fingers in his line of sight, "Hello? You with me?"

Arthur forced himself out of the trance, "Yes. I'm sorry. What was that you said?"

Francis walked in and handed Feliks his coffee. Feliks took it gratefully and looked at Arthur, "I asked how much you see Matthew."

Francis sat down next to Arthur as he answered, "Umm… About two or three times a week, depending how much homework I have to grade."

Feliks sipped on his coffee, "Does he talk to you often?"

Arthur shook his head, "He's only apologized over trivial things, but he only really speaks to my son, Alfred."

Feliks raised his thin eyebrows, "How old is your son?"

"Six."

Feliks nodded, "What is Alfred like?"

That brought a smile back to his face, Arthur loved talking about Alfred, "Not the best at communication, but he is very accepting." A short and sweet description, but Arthur couldn't be more prideful of his words.

Feliks sat up in his chair, "Are they good friends?"

Arthur nodded, "Oh, yes, Alfred is always so eager to see Matthew again."

Feliks stood, "Alright, I'll have to background check you, but all the people that Francis affiliates with are good people, so I'm sure you'll be fine." He directed his sight to Francis, "I already talked to Matthew at school today, all I need to do is walk around the house, then I'll be heading out."

Francis shrugged, "Hey, as long as Matthew can stay here, I'm happy."

Feliks flashed a smile as he walked into the other room, "I'll only be a sec."

Arthur could feel his grin drop. He looked back down at his ring and spun it slowly around his finger with his other hand. _What the bloody hell am I doing?_ Without much effort to stop it, his mind drifted into nothingness again.

"Are you alright?"

Arthur dropped his hand from his ring and forced himself to smile, "I'm fine, Francis, the best in weeks." Arthur meant to reassure Francis, but he could hear the emptiness in his voice.

Francis rubbed his back, "You can tell me later."

Feliks walked back in, "See, didn't take long." It only felt like he was gone for seconds, and it made Arthur wonder how long his mind had been had been away. Feliks began putting his jacket back on, "Well, everything checks out, and I have other houses to go to. Houses that aren't so nice."

Francis stood, walked to the front door and opened it, "I hope you have a smooth day."

Feliks rolled his eyes and groaned as he stepped into the doorway, "Me too. Have a good one, it was nice to meet you, Arthur."

Arthur forced the same fake smile, "You too."

Feliks turned and stepped out onto the porch and Francis began to close the door. Thunder cracked loudly and Francis opened the door again and called out, "And drive safe!" Arthur pulled himself to the edge of his seat as Francis closed the front door. He looked down at his ring again and stroked it with his right thumb. "Now what's your problem?" Francis asked with a joking tone.

Arthur's eyes wandered up and locked with Francis', "Does wearing my wedding ring bother you?"

Francis looked thrown by the question, "What are you talking about? I'm not wearing your wedding ring!"

Arthur stared at him, "You know what I meant."

Francis' smile faded, and his expression grew exasperated. He walked over as he groaned, laid down on his back in the space behind Arthur, and placed his arm over his face with a sigh, "You worry too much."

Arthur looked back at him and let his frustration express in his voice, "That doesn't help!"

Francis took his arm off of his face and set it on his chest. His eyebrows raised slightly, and his eyes and smile became kind, "It does not bother me. You take it off when you're ready, I'm not here to pressure you into anything."

Arthur turned his back and stared off into the nothingness, the rain on the roof like static in his ears, not even hearing the thunder. What was he doing? How would he feel if he were to die, and Kate started seeing someone else not seven months later? Did he have no respect for the dead? Did he not love her? Arthur put his head in his hands, fighting tears, feeling nothing but the familiar stab of overwhelming guilt.

"If it helps-" Francis' sudden voice nearly sent Arthur into a heart-attack, "I'm feeling the guilt too."

How the hell was it that Francis could read him so well? And how the hell could he feel guilt? Hadn't he already figured that part out? After all, he was secure enough to ask Arthur on a date. "Sure." Arthur's voice was flat and emotionless.

A hand immediately grabbed his shoulder and turned him towards Francis, who was propped up on his elbow, his expression furious, "You doubt that?" Arthur felt his eyes widen, he had never seen Francis' truly angry before. Arthur searched his mind for a way to cover himself, but he couldn't think of any. "Do you even know happened to Joanne? What happened to _me_?"

Arthur needed to say something, but all that came out was a: "Umm…"

Francis glared up at him, his blue eyes burning, and his accent thickening in his anger, "We were trapped in a smoke-filled building-"

Arthur cut him off, "_You_ were in the building?"

Francis ignored him, "I passed out! By the time the firemen got me out, I wasn't breathing, and without a pulse!" Arthur's blood turned cold at the words, just the thought of that made Arthur choke back on a sob. "I wake up, and my brother tells me that my wife is dead! And you don't think I feel guilt?"

Arthur had to whisper to keep himself from crying, "Francis I…" He started, but he didn't know what to say.

Francis' angry expression faded, his eyes darkened and focused on something distant. He took a quivering sigh, rolled onto his back again, and laid his arm back on his face, "I shouldn't be alive."

Arthur needed something to say, and he searched frantically, "But-but you are! You're here for a reason!"

Francis' tone was empty, "You don't believe that, you're an atheist. If you want to give me wisdom. Give me something that _you_ believe."

Arthur mentally kicked himself, those half-hearted answers that everyone said to him had been annoying him since Kate was diagnosed, but, Francis never said those things, because he knew it wouldn't help. He always just gave a hopeful smile and said, "I understand." with a sympathetic look in his eyes. It wasn't fair that Arthur didn't do the same for him.

Arthur searched for something else, this time, with truth, "I understand, Francis." Francis didn't move, and Arthur forced himself to continue, "Kate was dying, and I couldn't do anything about it." Francis removed his arm again, looked Arthur in the eyes, and simply listened. "I know it's impractical to even think that I could… But… It's hard to explain."

The look of understanding returned to Francis' face, "That's called helplessness." There was a long silence until he took a small sigh, and his lips formed into a sad smile, "I'm sorry for lashing out like that."

Arthur looked at him in surprise, why should he be sorry? "You're sorry? What I said was unbelievingly selfish and rude!"

"Yes, it was, but you didn't deserve it."

"Yes I did!"

Francis' grin turned playful, "Fine. You completely deserved it. You're an asshole and I hate you!"

Arthur forced himself to scowl, "I hate you too!" Their eyes locked and there was another short silence until Arthur blinked and asked a question that he had been meaning to ask for the past week, "Are we going to tell Alfred and Matthew about this?"

A look of confusion crossed Francis' face, "About what? My survivor's guilt?"

Arthur shook his head, "No, about… _Us_… Alfred is beginning to ask questions."

Francis laughed lightly, "I bet, he is quite the curious child, I've noticed."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You have no idea."

Francis shrugged, "If anything, we should tell them before they get it into their heads that it's wrong."

Arthur nodded, "True. So we'll tell them tonight?"

"_Oui_, sounds good to me."

Arthur's cell phone rang, without looking at the caller ID, he picked it up, "Hello?"

"Daddy?"

Oh, great, a call from Alfred at school, "Hey, Alfred, what's wrong?"

"Can you pick me up?"

Francis sat up, "Uhh, Arthur-"

Arthur put up a hand to shut him up, "Why? What's wrong?"

"School is over."

Arthur looked at his watch, Alfred's class ended about thirty minutes ago. Arthur bit his lip to stop himself from cursing, "Alfred, I'm so sorry, I got… Sidetracked... "

"It's okay. The desk lady is nice. Oh, are you with Francis? Because he didn't pick up Mattie."

_Mattie? _Alfred had never called Matthew that before. Arthur went past it, he'll get clarification later. He felt his coat and tie thrown over and on top of his head, he looked over and Francis was at the coat rack, smiling at him. Arthur glared at him and spoke into the phone, "Yes, Francis is with me, we'll be there soon."

"Okie dokie, Daddy, see you then."

Before Arthur could say good bye, Alfred hung up. Arthur sighed, "I can't believe I forgot about my only son."

Francis shrugged, "Hey, they're at school, they're safe, they'll be fine. Why do you criticize yourself all the time? You're only human."

Arthur just stared at him, "That doesn't help."

Francis opened the door and gave him that same, bright, brilliant, playful smile, "Alright, put it this way, we were having an important discussion. It's not like we were having sex or anything."

Arthur's cheeks burned, he tried to scowl, but he couldn't stop himself from giggling, "That doesn't help either!" He gave Francis a gentle push into the rain.

Francis laughed loudly as he stumbled down the porch steps, "This is why I hate you! You're so mean! I'm in a abusive relationship!"

Arthur stood on the top step, looking down on Francis' laughing, smiling face, "I bet I hate you more than you hate me!"

Francis tried to look angry, "You underestimate me!"

Arthur put his hands on his hips, "You're full of it!" He yelled. Then he lifted his hand, and extended his first two fingers, his fingernails facing Francis.

Francis clutched his chest with a over-dramatic gasp. He tuned on his heels, clearly pretending to be offended, "Why I never!" He said, exaggerating his French accent. He marched to his car and opened the door turned and yelled, his voice full of fake anger, "Now move your car, Black Sheep! Before I ram into it!"

Arthur tried to scowl, he tried to make a comeback, but instead, he just strolled down the driveway with a newfound beat in his step.

...

...

Arthur parked the car in his driveway and turned it off, "Alfred," He said as his son opened the car door to get out, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Alfred closed the door, "Sure. What's up?"

Arthur patted the passenger seat, "Come here, please." Alfred took the chance, and was more than happy to climb over the console, and plop himself in the passenger seat with a smile. Arthur took a deep breath, not really sure how to word this, "Um, Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

Arthur paused and turned in his seat to face Alfred, "You know what girls and boys do when they fall in love, right?"

Alfred seemed surprised by the subject, "They get married?"

Arthur nodded, unsure of where he going with this. "Yes… But did you know," Arthur changed his tone as if he was giving his son an interesting fact, "That two men can fall in love? And that two women can too?"

"What?" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes wide, "No!"

Arthur just smiled at him, "Yes, it's true."

Alfred's eyes were full of disbelief, "You're not kidding?"

Arthur shook his head, "No. I'm being truly honest."

Alfred's face twisted in confusion, "That's weird."

"Well…" Arthur didn't expect Alfred to understand this immediately, "I suppose, yes, it is a bit strange…" Arthur looked off at the house for a moment in silence, trying to think of what he was going to say next. The memories of his family, and how… Arthur shook his head, now was not the time to dread on that. He directed his sight back to his son, "But… That doesn't mean it wrong, right?" Arthur had to express that it wasn't wrong before Alfred assumed it was.

Alfred thought for a moment, looking at the rearview mirror before dropping his glance back to Arthur, "I guess not. I mean I'm weird," Alfred's thoughtful expression turned joyful again, "But I'm awesome!"

Arthur felt his smile fade as anxiety built up in his chest. He was surprised that he was so nervous telling this to his extremely accepting and laid-back son. He probably had nothing to worry about. "So, you wouldn't care if…_ I_ were like that?"

Alfred stared at him blankly, "But… You fell in love with Mama."

Arthur was taken by that, for some reason, he hadn't expected Alfred to bring up his mother. More guilt hit him as his eyes fell back to his wedding ring. He looked back up at Alfred, trying to ignore it, "People can fall in love more than once, Alfred."

Alfred tilted his head, "Really?"

"Yes."

Alfred shrugged with a smile, "Wow, I learned a lot of weird things today!"

"Learnt." Arthur corrected.

"Sorry."

"Now," Arthur started, his tone more serious, "The reason why I am explaining this to you is so you'll understand that…" Arthur's next words came out awkwardly, "Francis and I are dating… And have been for a month now."

A look of realization crossed Alfred's face, "Ohhhh, that's why you treat Francis like you treated Mama."

Arthur was relieved that Alfred hadn't gotten angry, and making the guilt worse. "Yes, exactly."

"Does Mattie know?"

Arthur felt his eyebrows furrow, "Mattie?"

Alfred suddenly became excited, "Yeah! I call him 'Mattie' and he calls me 'Al', but you can't call him that, only _I _can!"

Arthur smiled, how adorable, they had little nicknames for each other, "Francis is talking to Matthew about it sometime today."

"Okie dokie, can we go inside? I'm hungry."

Arthur couldn't believe it, why was he so nervous before? Did he really expect Alfred to react otherwise? After all, just as he told Feliks, Alfred was not good at communicating, but he was the most accepting person that Arthur had ever met… Relief washed over him, one of his biggest fears was when Kate died, he would screw up the parenting, but it looked like everything was working out.

_..._

_The Next Day…_

...

_"Maybe you're taking this too fast"_

Antonio's words had made Francis more nervous than usual for his visit. When Francis told his brother about Arthur, Antonio didn't seem to like the idea, but Francis needed to remind himself that Antonio only meant well, and just worried too much like he always did.

However, that didn't stop Francis from losing some sleep, and cleaning his house more than usual in his nervousness. Now, with the house clean, all Francis could do was pull back his hair in the shiny, red ribbon, that he had already redone a million times. He heard his front door open and close. Although Antonio was going to arrive soon, it was probably Arthur. Francis felt his chest fill with joy. They had been together for just over a month, had gotten past the awkwardness, are learning so many wonderful things, and, now, he felt like he was in freefall. He ran out of his room, ignored the tightness in his chest, turned the corner at the end of the hallway, threw his arms around Arthur's shoulders, and pulled him into a hug.

"Bloody hell!" Arthur exclaimed, his body tensing up in surprise.

Francis laughed in Arthur's ear and teased him, "What? did I scare you?"

Arthur forced himself out of his arms, "No! Of course not! I don't get scared!"

Francis laughed more, but it faded quickly when he realized that Arthur's eyes were underlined red. Francis tilted his head, his expression growing worried, "_Mon dieu_, have you been crying?"

Arthur sniffed and waved his hand dismissively, "Yes, but I'm fine."

Francis glanced away, wondering if he should ask the next question, "Why were you crying?"

Arthur spoke casually, "I just got back from a visit to the cemetery."

Francis hugged him again, "Are you okay?"

Arthur let out a breath of laughter and sniffled again, "I am now, don't worry." Arthur pulled himself away with a shy smile, "But, I am very stuffed up, it is quite disgusting."

Francis shook his head, "Oh, I don't care. I'll get you a tissue."

Arthur's shy smile turned playful, "Oh, no need, I can just use your shirt."

Francis felt his eyes widen as he wondered if Arthur was serious, "_Non_."

Arthur took a small step closer and reached out for Francis' shirt. Francis panicked and ran for cover. He ended up running down the hallway, his chest tightening so much he began wheezing. Without thinking, he ran straight into a corner. He turned around, hoping that he could slip into his room, but Arthur was already too close. Arthur took Francis' shirt and blew into it. Francis screamed in disgust and Arthur just laughed lightly, "Francis! I'm just kidding! Look, you idiot!"

Francis looked down and saw that his shirt was clean. He raised his glance to Arthur and narrowed his eyes, he wanted to be angry, but he couldn't stop his grin, "I hate you!" At an impulse, he reached at poked Arthur's side playfully.

Arthur took a small, quick step back with a giggle, "Stop! Don't do that!"

Francis smiled deviously, "Why? Are you ticklish?"

Fear crossed Arthur's face as he backed away further, "No! I am not!"

Francis just stared at him with the same expression, completely still, until Arthur turned to run. Before he could get away, Francis grabbed his waist turned him around, reached up, and pinched at his neck. Arthur's entire body cringed, his shoulders raised, and he collapsed to the floor laughing. Francis knelt down over him, running his fingers up and down Arthur's sides. Arthur squirmed, his legs kicking, and laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes, "_I am not ticklish!_" He yelled through his laughter.

"Sure, and I'm not French!" Francis yelled back.

Arthur's tears were running down his temples and disappearing in his hairline, "_Stop! Mercy!_"

Arthur's smile had never been bigger, he was laughing so hard he was crying, and the sound of it was beautiful, and it filled Francis' heart with happiness. Although he didn't want to, he stopped, and watched Arthur as his laughter slowly faded. He laid there, catching his breath, trying his best to scowl, "I hate you."

Francis just clumsily fell onto Arthur, who let out an "Oof" as he did. Francis laid his head on Arthur's chest, hearing his heartbeat slowly even. He felt Arthur begin to run his fingers through his hair, "You're heavier than you look." Arthur stated in a sweet tone. Francis only let out a snort of laughter in a reply. He couldn't feel more content than right now, Arthur was happy, Matthew was happy, and Alfred was happy, and that's all that mattered. Francis smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, focusing on Arthur's heartbeat, which lulled him to sleep.

...

_That Night_

...

Francis had always wanted to go to one of those English pubs where you could just sit down and talk with anybody. Of course, there was one within walking distance from his own house that he never noticed, and luckily for him, Antonio was more than happy to take care of Matthew and Alfred.

Antonio told him not to "be too late", but being in the pub was much more fun than Francis had expected. He had already talked to a small group of American tourists, a drunken Irish woman, and an old man with a thick cockney accent, who Francis didn't even understand until a few glasses of wine were in him. But, now, it was nearing midnight, and most of the pub was empty, for the exception of a few others and the bartender. Francis could tell he was a little drunk because he was getting lazy. He slouched in his chair more, and was beginning to feel tired, but he was coherent, and so was Arthur. Arthur, too, was a little drunk, and Francis noticed that when he was, his composure dropped. He smiled and laughed easier, brighter, truer, and, of course, with a hand over his mouth, as he always did. The dim light above Arthur sparkled in his eyes and illuminated his messy blonde hair, turning it golden. He was so beautiful, and adorable, and caring, and loving, and up-tight, and self-critical, and understanding, and hard-to-get, and protective, and _everything_. And that 'everything' was talking about history, and he loved history, so much that he teaches it to teenagers, and nothing was more beautiful than someone talking about what they loved.

"Are you listening?" Arthur was trying to sound irritated, but he was smiling.

Francis smiled contently, peacefully, his heart full of happiness, "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" Arthur's face turned light pink as he looked down. It was too cute. "Let's play Questions."

Arthur's head lifted, "Play what?"

Francis rested his chin on his palm, "Questions. Joanne and I used to play it when we started dating. I can't believe I forgot about it."

Arthur took a small sip of his whiskey, "Okay, how do we play?"

Francis had to think about it for a moment, it had been so long. "Well, I ask you a question, you have to answer it in complete honesty, then you ask me a question. But, if you ask more than one question, you lose."

Arthur glanced away for a moment before his eyes settled back on Francis, "You mean like Truth or Dare?"

"_Oui_, but without the 'Dare' part."

"Right, you go first."

Francis sat up in the booth, "Why don't you take compliments well?"

Arthur seemed surprised by the question. He tilted his head in thought, and answered slowly, "They are overbearing, I'm not any of those things."

That sparked Francis' curiosity, sure Arthur was self-critical, but that almost sounded like self-hate. Francis just stared at him, wondering how far these feelings went. Finally, he took a sip of wine, and set it on the table gently, "Your turn."

"Oh, uh…" Arthur looked at the ceiling before his eyes fell back down, avoiding looking at Francis in the eyes, "Why do you compliment me so much?"

Francis smiled understandingly, "Because you deserve them, but, why do you think otherwise?"

Arthur shrugged, "Comes with being the family disappointment, I guess." He looked at Francis almost suspiciously, "Why do you think I deserve them?"

Wasn't it obvious? "Because you're wonderful," Francis started, "I don't want you to change, I love you… Why don't you compliment me?"

"I'm not good at it. Why do you love me?"

Arthur looked so lost when he asked his question. Francis reached across the table and took Arthur's hand in both of his, Arthur looked down, embarrassed by the affection. "Because you make me happy," Francis simply stated, "Why do you love me?"

Arthur mumbled something along the lines of: "I don't deserve this." Then he looked up right into Francis' eyes, "You take away all my pain."

Francis widened his grin and taunted, "See? Was it that hard to compliment me?"

Arthur forced a scowl and shot more of the everlasting sarcasm, "Like you deserve it, Frog! And you lose!"

"_Merde_!" Francis exclaimed, "Beaten me at my own game! Sneaky Brit!" How could have he been that dumb? He always won that game. Arthur covered his smile as he laughed quietly, and Francis just scowled back at him, "That doesn't count! It wasn't really a question! I was taunting you!"

Arthur took the last swig of his whiskey and set the class on the table, "Hey, rules are rules."

"Rules are rules." Francis grumbled under his breath.

Arthur's glare disappeared and his eyes turned kind, "Come now, Francis, don't pout. How about some more wine? I'm going up to get more whiskey anyway."

"_Non._" Francis said bitterly.

Arthur only shrugged, got out of the booth and walked back to the bar. Francis watched his little Black Sheep go. The way he walked, the way he ran his finger through his hair while waiting for the bartender, the way he shifted his weight nervously while talking to him, the way he laughed when the bartender made a joke. All those little things that Francis loved, all those little things Francis couldn't imagine living without.

...

...

...

Translations:

Halo: (Polish)- Hello

Merde: (French)- Dammit/Fuck

Other Notes:

A more cute chapter, no real notes for it.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur immediately regretted going to the pub when he woke to a pounding headache. He knew his limit, but how come he always forgot it right after his first drink? Perhaps it wasn't that bad, he did remember most of the night, even though it got a bit fuzzy towards the end. He spoke with some tourists, a few locals, played Questions with Francis, along with some Black-Jack… Then it got late… The bartender had to inform him that they had to leave due to closing time… Did Francis carry him back home?... _Had to be a dream_…

Arthur pulled the covers over his head to block the light that came from the window as he wondered how he got home… Something wasn't right though. His bed was softer than usual, the light seemed to be coming from the opposite direction than it should be, and not to mention the delightful smell of breakfast.

The bedroom door swung open, "_Good morning!_" Francis sang.

Arthur bolted up. _What the bloody hell is Francis doing in my house? _Arthur looked around, and realized that he was in Francis' bedroom. _Oh God_.

Francis walked in with a tray up to the bedside, "I thought that you might have a bit of a headache, so I got you some water, and cooked you an omelette to give you a bit of protein. How's that sound?"

Arthur stared at him in fear, wondering what he didn't remember. Francis just looked back, waiting for a response, until realization crossed his face, "Oh, uh, you kinda fell asleep once your head hit the pillow, and If it helps, I slept on my couch last night."

Arthur let out a sigh of relief as he leaned against the bedframe, "Oh, thank god." Francis smiled lightly, sat on the bed, and set the tray on Arthur's lap. "Breakfast in bed?" Arthur said, "I don't deserve this."

Francis chuckled lightly, "Of course you do! And I was more than happy to make it, because I love you."

Arthur was about to grab his fork when he looked up at Francis suspiciously, "I thought you hated me."

Francis tilted his head, "When did I say that?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "Yesterday. Twice."

Francis shook his head dramatically, "I would never!"

"This omelette is poisoned, isn't it?"

Francis looked down the floor with a sigh, "_Oui_."

Arthur rolled his eyes and looked back at his food. His stomach ached from the whiskey the night before, but he had to eat something. He sighed, picked up his fork, and ate slowly as he listened to Francis chatter on about what he didn't remember, which wasn't much, so he began talking about something else. Francis played with his long, blonde hair, flashed his brilliant smile, and laughed in that stereotypical, French laugh. All those things that were so annoying, they were somehow charming. All those annoying things Arthur couldn't imagine living without… Arthur's heart seemed to stop in his chest when he realized that last part. He had said 'I love you.' on multiple occasions, but it really didn't hit him until then, and now, he was beginning to feel that "free fall" stage.

"Are you okay?"

Arthur blinked himself out of the trance he was in. He wanted to drop his composure, wanted to be relaxed, but that always seemed out-of-character, so instead, he straightened his posture, and showed minimal emotion, "Of course, I'm fine, Frog."

Francis smiled sweetly, leaned forward, and landed a kiss on his cheek. Arthur forced himself not to react, and just chew on his last piece of omelette.

"Well, this _Frog_ thinks you smell too much like whiskey." Francis said as he stood and walked over to his closet. Arthur set the tray on the nightstand only to turn into a t-shirt being thrown into his face. He uncovered his face only for a packet of mints to smack him in the nose. Francis laughed, "That should fix it."

"Bloody wanker." Arthur exclaimed under his breath.

"_Connard_." Francis responded.

…

…

When Arthur followed Francis out of the bedroom, he could already hear Alfred talking in the living room. He turned the corner, walked through the dining room, and into the kitchen. He set his plate in the sink and was about to refill his glass with water when he heard footsteps behind him. When he turned he saw Antonio at the coffee maker.

"Oh," Arthur said, "Good morning, Antonio."

Despite being his brother, Antonio looked nothing like Francis. While Francis was blonde haired and blue-eyed, Antonio had brown curly hair and green eyes, but they both had the same full-of-life personality. Antonio smiled brightly, "_Buenos días_, Arthur!" There was a moment of silence as Arthur filled his glass. "Where's Francis?" Antonio asked.

Arthur shut off the faucet, turned around and leaned against the counter, "In the living room, why?"

Antonio lowered his voice, "I wanted to thank you."

Arthur felt his eyebrows draw together, "Thank me?"

"_Sí_," Antonio nodded, "I haven't seen Francis this happy in a very long time. Thank you."

Francis had been moving on and building a new life for himself, and was much healthier than Arthur was, emotionally. However, now that Arthur looked back on it, Francis is much happier now than he was in the beginning. It seems that he helped Francis more than he had realized. Arthur smiled back, "You're welcome, Antonio. I didn't even realize that before."

Antonio's smile dropped and his tone grew serious, "Of course, if you hurt him…" Antonio left the sentence hanging.

Arthur nodded nervously, "Of course, I understand."

Antonio's smile returned as he patted Arthur on the shoulder, "You seem like a good guy, Arthur. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about!" When he turned back to the coffee maker, Arthur awkwardly slipped out the kitchen door.

Once in the living room, Arthur glanced at the TV to see it on a nature show channel. Matthew had a soft spot for nature and animals, and loved shows about them. He sat in the recliner, petting his polar bear stuffed animal, Kuma, while Alfred sat next to him, commenting on the animals that they saw. Francis sat on the couch, staring absently at the show. Arthur's eyes wandered down to Francis' feet, where a oxygen tank rested.

"Uh, Francis," Arthur began, "Why is there an oxygen tank in your living room?"

Francis turned his head to Arthur, "I sleep on oxygen." He said it as if it were obvious.

Arthur sighed, "Why?"

Francis glanced away for a moment, as if he wasn't sure why Arthur was asking him these questions, "Because my oxygen levels get too low when I'm asleep."

Francis' vague answers where beginning to frustrate Arthur, "Why? Sleep apnea? Care to elaborate?"

Francis leaned closer and lowered his volume, "I suffocated in a burning building. My lungs aren't exactly what they used to be."

Arthur stared blankly at him for a moment. He had just learned the other day that Francis almost died in the same fire that Joanne did, and never did Arthur even consider the long term affects of it. Arthur sat down next to Francis with a sigh, "What else?"

Francis turned his body to face him, "I can't run, or my chest gets too tight, I grow tired easier, I have to sleep on oxygen, and…" Francis trailed off.

"And?" Arthur prompted.

Francis dropped his sight guiltily, "And it cut off a few years."

Arthur felt his heart begin to ache. Not only was he a widower, but now he was in a deep relationship with someone who he might only have a few years with… Just like Kate.

Anger washed over him, "Why didn't you tell me this?"

Francis shrugged, "I didn't think it would be important."

Arthur's voice began to raise, "How is this not important?"

"What's not important?" Antonio chimed as he walked in.

Francis shook his head with a reassuring smile, "Well, it's not important, so, nevermind."

It was now made obvious that Antonio didn't know about those "few years", which worried Arthur even more. If Francis didn't tell his own brother about that part, then how long did Francis have?

Antonio gave Francis a suspicious look and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Alfred interrupted him, "Hey, Antonio! They're talking about turtles now!" Antonio hesitated, smiled and walked over to the recliner where the boys were sitting. Alfred and Matthew crossed their legs in the chair so Antonio could sit on the floor in front of them. "Antonio! Antonio!" Alfred exclaimed, "How do you say 'turtle' in Spanish?"

"_Tortuga_," Antonio responded cheerfully, "You sure seem to like learning language!"

Alfred bounced in his seat, "Yeah! I'm gonna speak them all someday!"

Antonio only chuckled and Arthur turned back to Francis, afraid to ask his question, "How many years?" He whispered.

"Ten to fifteen," Francis whispered back, "and if normal lifespans are about eighty, I'll still live to be seventy or so."

"Or sixty-five."

Francis smiled as if there was nothing to worry about, "Hey, I take medication and vitamins to prevent lung infections, I keep my oxygen levels up, and I am in very good shape. If I keep that going, I'll probably live past seventy."

Somehow it didn't help. But, would it matter? As much as Arthur would like to change that, he can't, and as much as Arthur would like to push him away to save himself from pain, it would only make him feel worse.

"You have nothing to worry about, alright?" Francis reassured.

"Alright." Arthur said, his mind turning to static.

…

…

Despite the bad news, Arthur's day was great. He talked and laughed with Antonio, Francis showed him pictures of their family, Ludwig stopped by for an hour or so, and Alfred and Matthew were beginning to act like brothers, rather than friends. Arthur wondered how he had gotten lucky enough to find a way to establish this new, splendid life.

It was early in the evening when Francis surprised them with reservations to a local, fancy restaurant. The dinner certainly was special, for it had been the first time in a long time that Arthur had actually felt like he was part of a family.

Francis and Arthur held hands under the table as Matthew colored in his coloring book, and Alfred chatted away endlessly to Antonio, occasionally stopping ask the Spaniard to translate words into Spanish. Antonio was more than happy to talk, translate, and compliment the boys, and the boys were more than happy to get the attention.

But, with Antonio's upbeat personality, Francis' bright smile, Alfred chatting away, and Matthew feeling well enough to whisper his order to the waiter, the night flew by too fast, and before Arthur knew it, he was driving back home. Arthur held Francis' hand on the console and drove as he heard Alfred complain about his tiredness, only to ask Antonio how to say 'I'm tired' in Spanish.

Arthur dove over a hill that overlooked the familiar intersection as he ran his thumb over Francis' knuckles. The car sped up a little as it approached the intersection, without a stop needed, Arthur continued on. About half way through it, he spotted something in the corner of his right eye. When he turned his head he realized that headlights were speeding in his direction, without any sign of stopping. Arthur's first impulse was to slam on the breaks, but it was too late. Arthur could hear the sound of breaking glass and screeching metal as a surge of pain pulsed through his whole body, then, nothing, blissful, peaceful, nothing…

…

…

The light was so bright it hurt Francis' eyes. The shadows set in, and he realized that he was in a room he didn't recognize. His head pounded harder than he could even imagine, his entire body ached, and the left side of his face, neck, and shoulder felt like it had been torn to shreds by a angry cat. Francis groaned in a complaint before he realized heaviness on his chest.

"Papa?"

Francis looked down his own nose to see little Matthew lying on him, his purple eyes filled with concern. Francis ignored his pain and smiled, "Hey, Matthew."

"Francis."

Francis looked over to see Antonio sitting in a chair at his bedside with Lain behind him, Francis couldn't help but feel like something wasn't right.

"Antonio," He tried to sound cheerful, but a wave of pain shot through his skull, so he spoke softer, "Where am I?"

Antonio looked lost for words before he simply stated, "You're in the hospital."

Francis stared at his brother, trying to remember why he would be in the hospital, but nothing came to mind. "Why?"

Antonio looked back at Lain, who walked around to Francis' other side and looked at Matthew, "C'mon, Matt, let's go see Alfred for a little bit."

Francis was surprised when Matthew protested, "But Papa's wake, I want to see him."

Lain looked as if he was desperately trying to keep composure as he sighed, "You can see Francis after Uncle Antonio is done talking with him. Sound good?" After a moment, Matthew nodded, Lain picked him up, and left the room without another word.

Francis could feel his stomach turn cold, something was wrong. "What is happening?"

Antonio let out a stressful sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck, "_Hermano_," He started, in a calm voice, "Do you remember going to dinner?"

Francis thought for a moment, he could remember arriving at the restaurant, eating, and walking back out to the parking lot. Details were missing, but overall, the memory seemed accurate. "_Oui_, we were heading to the parking lot."

Antonio seemed a bit surprised, but just nodded as he paused before speaking again, "Well, we were on our way back when… We got into a pretty bad car accident."

A chill ran down Francis' spine, "But, everyone is okay, right?"

Antonio opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and thought for a second, "Everyone survived." He said quickly.

Relief hit Francis for a split moment before he realized what his brother had said. He stared at Antonio, "They survived, and they are alright?"

Antonio went into explaining, sounding as if he had prepared it, "You have a concussion, and needed stitches in your face, neck, and shoulder due to broken glass." He glanced at the ceiling and back down to Francis as he continued, "Matthew and I didn't lose consciousness, he has a broken wrist and my right shin is broken, too."

Francis felt some relief, but Antonio seemed to get more and more stressed as he went along. Fear rose in his chest as his brother continued, "Alfred did lose consciousness, he woke up in the ambulance, and has been awake since. He needed stitches to close a gash in his head, and he isn't showing signs of any brain injury..." Antonio trailed off.

Francis could feel his chest tighten, "What about Arthur?"

Antonio sighed again and ran his fingers through his curly hair, "The other car ran into his door, so he got the worst of it."

Francis tried to finish his brother's sentence as his throat went dry, "But, he's fine."

But, Antonio didn't smile reassuringly, just looked at him with a sad expression, as he began to explain, "His right elbow is broken, along with many ribs… His right knee is broken and dislocated, and his sternum… Snapped in half…" Francis could tell that this was becoming painful for Antonio to say, and frankly, it was becoming painful to hear. "His airbag failed to go off and his hit his head extremely hard… He lost a lot of blood, and the doctors fought with him to keep his vitals stable… They finally did, but..." He trailed off again.

"But, he's fine." Francis insisted.

Antonio took another long breath, "Francis."

Francis didn't respond, whatever the next words were, he didn't want to hear it, he just closed his eyes and waited.

"He's in a coma."

Francis' world stopped, his heart sunk, and he stared at the ceiling. This is not what he imagined. His world should be shattering, he should be crying, screaming, but none of this seemed real enough…

…

…

…

Translations:

Connard: (French)- Asshole

Buenos días: (Spanish)- Good morning

Tortuga: (Spanish)- Turtle

Other Notes:

Sorry for the short chapter, I origanially had more scenes, but it came out choppy and poorly written. The next one will be normal length, if not longer.


	8. Chapter 8

_Warning: I had to do much research on comatose, healthcare, and treatment. However, what I read was a lot, and there is something that is bound to be inconsistent, inaccurate, or wrong. If you find something, I'm sorry, I did the best I could, and I did not do it purposefully._

* * *

…

_Three Years Later_

…

Lain walked into the school and signed his name on the '_Sign In_' sheet.

"Hello, Mr. Kirkland!"

Lain looked at the office lady with a blank expression. More anger flew through his mind, he had been here so many times, that the people knew his name. He just gave her a sarcastic smile as he turned and walked down the hallway.

This was the second time this month he was called down to the school, the fifth time in the whole year, and it was only November. Lain sighed as he approached the principal's door. He expected it all to get better sometime, but it seemed it was never going to come. Lain fidgeted with his hands, _Christ, I could use a cigarette… _

He walked in without knocking to see the principal at his desk, and Alfred peaking over the back of his chair. Lain glared at his nephew, who quickly turned around. Before the principal could say anything, Lain interrupted without taking his eyes off Alfred, hoping that he could feel his glare, "So, another fight?"

Alfred turned back around in his seat, "I can explain."

Lain closed his eyes to prevent himself from shouting, even though Alfred deserved the humiliation of it. The principal took a small sigh, "Mr. Kirkland-"

Lain interrupted again, "Who threw the first punch?"

The principal looked at Alfred, "Well, Alfred? Why don't you tell him?"

Alfred looked down at his feet, "I did," He snapped his head back up and raised his voice, "But, Sam-"

Lain didn't want to hear this, "I am not accepting any more excuses, Alfred!" Lain pinched at the bridge of his nose, "What's his academic punishment?"

The principal paused for a moment, "A week of out of school suspension-"

"Good, I don't wanna be here anyway." Alfred grumbled.

The principal gave Alfred a long stare before blinking slowly, and looking back to Lain, "If this happens again, then he will be expelled."

"But, they're the ones who are saying mean things!" Alfred protested.

"That doesn't change your situation." The principal said quickly in a raised voice.

Dealing with Francis and Matthew was stressful, driving to England to visit the hospital was stressful, and now, Alfred, who was a chatty, happy-go-lucky kid, was becoming quiet, angry and detached. Lain could barely handle it all, he wanted everything to pause, like pausing a DVD, just so he could take a moment to breathe...

Lain drove in silence, he didn't want to speak, not even to his nine-year-old nephew, who would be chatting away if only his father was conscious.

"Can I see Mattie today?" Alfred asked, about halfway home.

"No, you're grounded." Lain replied, emotionlessly.

Lain could see Alfred adjust in his seat angrily, "But, I didn't even do anything!"

Lain tightened his grip on the steering wheel, "I'm not having this conversation with you _again_."

There was a long silence before Alfred spoke again, a little calmer this time, "Can I see Dad?"

Lain sighed, "Of course, you can see your father, Alfred. Let's go home so you can eat something first."

Alfred scoffed, "You mean so you can smoke? Do you know what that does to people?"

Lain didn't answer, he just pulled into the driveway, "Get something to eat."

Alfred unbuckled, picked up his backpack off the floor, got out, slammed the door, and stormed into the house. Lain ran his fingers through his hair, _Oh, God, what would Arthur say?_ He stepped out of the car and lit a cigarette.

…

…

The first time Francis visited Arthur, he sat in silence, holding and rubbing Arthur's hand. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, perhaps for Arthur to just wake up since he looked asleep. It took about a week for it to sink in that it wasn't going to be that easy.

The first year wasn't too bad. Francis had high hopes that his stubborn Black Sheep would wake, Feliks' visits ended, Matthew started going to therapy, and was responding to it well. A Christmas, New Year, and birthdays passed, and the first anniversary of the car accident came around, and Francis began to panic. He watched the news, asked the doctors endless questions, and did hours of research on comatose. He wondered if Arthur could hear him, if he was dreaming, if he was in pain, but all the information was too vague and too inconsistent. By the end of the second year, he was stressed beyond belief.

The second anniversary came, the third year started, and Francis' hope began to die. He began to wonder why he had to be the one to survive, wondered why Arthur was in the coma, and not him, and wondered if those were selfish thoughts, he guessed it depended on whether or not Arthur was in pain. The survivor's' guilt was relentless, and he began sinking into the same depression he had when Joanne died.

Before the accident, Francis would run across the lawn to see Ludwig, even if he was hunched under a hood of a car, or even working under it. But, now he just kept his head down, and didn't answer his door if Ludwig knocked. He lied to his brothers about how he was doing, and eventually, stopped picking up his phone, sending it to voicemail everytime:

_Hola! It's Antonio! Call me back! Adiós!_

_Hola, Francis, it's me, call me when you get the chance._

_Francis, it's Antonio, I know you might be busy, but please call me back when you get this, you're worrying me._

_Hey, it's Lovino, I talked to Antonio, why aren't you picking up? Call back._

_I swear to God, if you don't pick up this phone- Just call back!_

_DAMMIT! PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE!_

_Hey, it's Feli, sorry for Lovi's outburst, he's just worried, even if he won't admit it… Uh, I know you're going through a hard time with Arthur and all, but you're really worrying us! We love you! Please, please, call back._

_Hello? This is Feli again, did we do something wrong? Are you mad? If this is the wrong number, and not Francis, call back and tell us._

Each time Francis promised himself he would call back, but he never did.

Things only seemed to get worse. Alfred was becoming angry and sad, Lain was always in a bad mood, and worst of all, Matthew was beginning to pick up on his depression, didn't talk as much, and was beginning to take steps backwards in his therapy. It was all going to hell.

The third anniversary passed, the year went further into early November, and Francis sat at Arthur's bedside, as he did everyday, holding and rubbing his hand, growing more hopeless by the minute. He tried to get some work done on his computer, but he couldn't concentrate enough, leaving him with only to his thoughts. But before survivor's' guilt could hit too hard, he heard footsteps.

Arthur's doctor, who insisted on people calling him Ralph due to his dislike for formalities, walked in, smiling lightly, "Hello, Mr. Bonnefoy." He cheerfully said in a light, Australian accent.

Francis was usually able to fake happiness, but he let his voice sound empty, "_Bonjour_."

Ralph walked around to Arthur's opposite side, looked at the small monitor, and without looking at Arthur, reached down and patted his shoulder gently, "Afternoon, Arthur. I won't be long, but a nurse will be in later to change your I.V. again." He had told Francis in the first year that he was a firm believer that comatose patients were aware of their surroundings, and although that gave Francis hope in the beginning, it only made him feel guilty that he no longer believed that.

He scribbled some things on his clipboard, ran his fingers through his brown hair, and turned back around. When he saw Francis, his eyes lit up as if he remembered something, "I actually need to talk to you." He said as he walked over and pulled up a chair.

Anger washed over Francis. Why couldn't people just leave him alone? Nevertheless, he didn't allow himself to be rude, "About what?"

Ralph took the folder he held under his clipboard, grabbed a stapled packet of papers from inside and turned it so Francis could see the first page, "I believe I showed you this picture before?" The paper had the familiar, small graph of Arthur's comatosed brain waves.

After Francis nodded, and Ralph continued, "Arthur's brain waves have been like this for just over three years, but…" Ralph paused as he flipped through some pages in the packet, and turned it so Francis could see, "These are his brain waves from the other day."

Francis looked at it, the spaces between the waves were smaller, and the ups and downs were slightly more dramatic. Francis drew his eyebrows together and looked up at the doctor, whose smile was bigger than he had ever seen.

He flipped through the packet again, and showed the next picture, "And these are his brain waves today."

The waves in the last picture were more dramatic than the last. As much research as he did, Francis never really grasped the understanding of brain waves, so he looked back to Ralph, "What does this mean?"

"It means his brain is more active." He explained.

Francis' eyes widened, hope began to rise in his chest, and the fear of the answer to his question, "Is he-"

Ralph held his hand up to silence him, "I'm sorry to say this again, but I don't know. If he continues this pattern, then he will start going through stages of consciousness and be awake by next week."

Francis' chest tightened and he could feel happy, hopeful tears in his eyes.

"But," He continued, "He could fall where he was for the past few years, or he could plateau where he is now. But, either way, this is good news."

Francis tilted his head at that last statement, "If he doesn't wake, then how is the good news?"

Ralph leaned forward and smiled warmly, "The problem with comatose patients is that sometimes, we don't know if they are there or not, but, this," he said as he tapped the last graph, "This tells us that he's there, he's fighting, and even if he doesn't wake, he has a better chance to in the future."

Francis didn't know what to say, he just nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks, "_Merci_."

…

…

Everyday since, Francis asked how Arthur was, desperate to know if he would wake soon. And everyday since, it was nothing but progress. Arthur kept on improving, and Francis was filled with new hope, but it was four, long days later when fear struck him. Francis suddenly remembered that, while researching, he found out that Arthur might wake with new physical, mental, or psychological disabilities. He asked Ralph about it, but, of course, he didn't know.

It was a week later when Arthur gained consciousness. Francis could barely contain his excitement when Arthur began to sigh, and move a little, but when he did wake, he didn't seem aware of anything. He opened his eyes and looked around the room, but he showed no signs that he could hear Francis, or feel his hand being held. He was only awake for seconds, if even a minute.

Arthur was in and out of consciousness in this state for the first two days. On the third day, he would be awake for a longer amount of time, and would look and listen to those who talked to him, which was a big improvement, for he could now recognize voices. Arthur spent the next week in and out of a light stage of unconsciousness, each time awake longer than the last, and slowly, it became no more than heavy sleeping. He also gained a better ability to track voices, seemed to understand words more and more each day, and began expressing emotion.

Eventually, Arthur became even more aware, and by the second week of his consciousness he could answer 'Yes or No' questions with nodding or shaking his head, and not long after that, he could answer simple, verbal questions such as 'What is your name?' and 'What is your son's name?'. As the third week started, Arthur could hold small, simple conversations. His words were slurred heavily at first, but as the days passed, that improved just like everything else.

Francis did his research, he knew that the recovery would be slow, but the first few weeks felt like a year, and his hope was soon replaced with stress. But, Francis could handle stress, he just worked on his mind-numbing project on his computer as he waited for Arthur to wake again. Each time Arthur woke, he was awake longer than the last, so it wasn't long before Francis heard Arthur sigh, and shift in his bed.

Francis closed his laptop, leaned forward to the bed, and took Arthur's hand, "Arthur?" Arthur's hand twitched and tightened on Francis' as his eyes flickered open. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and Francis repeated himself, "Arthur?"

Arthur closed his eyes and took a quick, deep inhale before he turned his head and squinted, "Francis?"

Francis smiled and spoke in a soothing tone, "_Oui_, it's me. How are you feeling?"

Arthur gave a weak smile, "Tired." He responded, slowly.

"Well, you can go back to sleep if you want," Francis started, "You do need a lot of rest, and I'll be here for a while longer."

Arthur shook his head a little, "No. Just woke."

Francis smiled, even through all this, Arthur was still stubborn. But, Arthur had already gotten much sleep, so he could afford to be awake if he wanted. Francis nodded, "That's okay, but remember, you do need to sleep a little later, alright?"

Arthur seemed to process Francis' words quickly, "Okay." Silence fell, and Arthur's concentration failed as he stared back to the ceiling, expressionless.

Francis waited to see if Arthur would come back to reality himself, although it rarely happened. Regardless, Francis had to give him the chance to. When he didn't Francis leaned closer, "Arthur." Arthur continued to stare off into space, without any word or movement. Francis ran a hand through his long hair as he tightened his grip on Arthur's with his other, "Arthur."

Arthur blinked, looked down at his hand, then back up into Francis' direction with a look of remembrance in his eyes.

Francis smiled as he reminded himself that he had to keep a conversation going to help Arthur's concentration, "Did you see Doctor Ralph today?"

"Ral…" Arthur's eyes wandered away as he tried to connect the name with a face, then he smiled and shifted his eyes back, "Yes."

Francis chuckled, since the good news a few weeks ago, he no longer had to fake his happiness, "And what did he say?" He let Arthur think as he tried to remember. When it came to almost everything, it was best to wait and let Arthur try, and giving assistance if needed.

Arthur's expression changed and Francis could tell he found the answer, but his thick eyebrows drew together, indicating that he was looking for the correct words to explain. He was becoming aware of his impaired speech, and expressed some frustration about it the day before.

"Get better." He finally said.

Francis nodded in agreement, and let his excitement show in his voice, "_Oui_, you are getting better every day! Do you feel better?"

"I feel…" He trailed off and his smile dropped as he searched for the right word, "Weer…"

Some combinations of vowels were difficult for him, and Francis was prepared for it, "Weird?" He tried to finish.

Arthur nodded with a confused expression and looked back to the ceiling.

Francis smiled reassuringly, "It will go away, Arthur, it'll take time but it will." Francis brought Arthur's hand up and kissed it. Arthur turned his head quickly, scowled and took his hand back, all while blushing. Francis could feel his smile grow. Arthur's old personality was showing more and more each day.

"_Herregud_."

Francis turned to the door to see a Lukas, Arthur's friend and co-worker. He stood in the doorway with a vase of flowers, and his usually expressionless face wide-eyed with shock. Francis felt like hitting his head on the wall, this was Arthur's best friend, and he forgot to call the school to tell him, as well as their other friend, Drac, what has been going on for just over three weeks.

Lukas slowly walked to Arthur's bedside, and set the vase on the table. Arthur's eyes followed the movement, but didn't say anything. Lukas turned to Arthur and rubbed his shoulder, "H-hey."

Arthur looked in his direction, "Who?"

Francis could tell that Lukas was trying to stay emotionless, but his eyes were tainted with fear, "You- you don't remember me?"

Arthur's eyesight was very poor, so he was basing everything on sound, especially voices, and the word 'Hey' could have not been enough to recognize Lukas' voice. But when Lukas said a full sentence, Arthur broke into a wide smile, "Lukas." He said, with much excitement in his voice, he was obviously happy to have a new visitor.

Lukas turned and sat down on the edge of the bed by Arthur's side with a relieved, crooked smile, "Hey buddy, how are you?"

Francis wasn't sure how much Lukas knew about this, and thought about pulling him aside to try to explain how to talk to Arthur. But, also knowing how smart Lukas is, Francis wasn't surprised when Lukas didn't break his eye contact, kept his positive smile, and waited patiently as Arthur thought about how to respond.

"I am…" Arthur paused to think, "Well."

Lukas' smile grew, "Yeah, you sure do look it."

Arthur's face screwed up a bit, before relaxing back to the same content, smile, "How you?"

"How am I?" Lukas repeated, then let out a breath of laughter, "I'm doing great." He paused to give Arthur a chance to process his words before continuing, "Are they treating you well here?"

Arthur thought for a long moment, he wasn't used to that question, so it took him longer to answer. "Yes. Treat well." Lukas opened his mouth to say something, but shut it closed when Arthur looked as if he was thinking. "Doc… Ral."

"Doctor Ralph?" Lukas asked, and when Arthur nodded, he continued, "He is very nice, isn't he? I've met him on a few occasions."

Arthur nodded again weakly, "Yes. Very nice." There was an awkward silence before he spoke again, "Emil?"

Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise, Arthur had not purposefully changed the subject before, let alone asking questions. Lukas didn't miss a beat in the conversation, though. "Emil is sick with flu, I had to stay home from work to take care of him yesterday, but he is a little better today."

In the few years that Francis had run into Lukas, he had learned that Lukas taught psychology, and was educated in the field well enough to be a skilled therapist. Skilled enough that Francis hadn't noticed what Lukas was doing. Lukas' questions and sentences had been slowly getting longer, testing how much Arthur could understand.

At first, Francis was mad about this, but he knew, as Arthur's best friend, Lukas meant no harm, he was extremely knowledgeable in psychology, one of the smartest people Francis had met, knew what he was doing, and most of all, wanted to know how well his friend was doing. Besides, Francis figured that the exercises would help Arthur's logical thinking and sentence building.

Arthur moved his eyes around the room while in thought, until he stared off absently again. Francis leaned forward to try to snap him back to reality, but Lukas held out his hand to stop him without losing eye contact. He let Arthur space-out for a while, which Francis knew wasn't good, "Lukas-"

Francis was cut off when Lukas began to pat Arthur's hand, "Arthur?" When Arthur didn't move, or even blink, Lukas' calm voice tensed slightly with panic, "You with me?"

Arthur finally blinked and looked back to Lukas, but didn't seem to notice that anything had happened, "Emil. Flu?"

Lukas seemed to be taken away by the recovery and, frankly, Francis was too. Lukas stumbled over his words a bit until clearing his throat, and speaking in the same, friendly, calm tone, "Yes, Emil is sick with flu, Matthias is taking care of him so I could visit you."

"Who's Matthias?" Francis chimed in.

Both Lukas and Arthur turned and looked at Francis as if they were noticing him for the first time, but Lukas wasn't rude about it and answered, "A life-long friend of mine."

Arthur turned his head back to Lukas with a smile and a weak breath of laughter, "Friend… Loose."

Lukas seemed puzzled for a moment until something clicked in his head, "Yes," He chuckled, "I do use that term loosely, don't I?"

Arthur tried to laugh, but it only came out as short, quick exhales. Francis smiled, seeing Arthur interacting with his best friend like this was refreshing. He leaned and took Arthur's hand again, "I'm going to step out for a bit."

Arthur looked at Francis and slowly processed the information, "No. Don't go way."

Francis let go of Arthur's hand and stood, "I need to use the loo, I'll be back." After a moment, Arthur nodded, and Francis turned away, walked through the door, and closed it behind him. He thought it would be best to give the old friends some privacy.

Francis sat on the bench just outside the door for about five minutes before Lukas walked back out.

"Everything okay?" Francis asked, looking up at the blonde, whose face was expressionless again.

"Yeah," Lukas nodded, "He started getting tired. So I convinced him to go back to sleep."

"Convinced? He being stubborn?" Francis chuckled.

A smile twitched at Lukas' lips, "Yep. Thank god for that, right? I don't know what I would do if he became easygoing. " Francis let out a light laugh in agreement, and after a short silence, Lukas sighed, "Well, tell him that I'll try to make it back soon, but finals are coming up in a month, so I'm not sure how that is going to work out."

Francis nodded, "I'll be sure to, and sorry for not telling you about this."

Lukas gave Francis an agitated expression and turned around, "I'll see you later." He said in a cold tone.

Francis didn't say anything back, he just looked at the ground, disappointed in himself. A few minutes later, he walked back into Arthur's room. Francis paused at his bedside and looked at Arthur for a moment as he breathed slowly in his blissful, peaceful sleep. Francis let out a breath of disbelief, sat back down in his chair, and continued working on his laptop.

…

_One Week Later_

…

Francis hopped up Ludwig's porch steps and knocked on the door.

"Why are we suddenly talking to Ludwig and your brothers again?"

Francis looked down at Matthew, "What do you mean?"

The eight-year-old glanced at his feet before looking Francis in the eyes again, "Weren't you mad at them?"

Francis twisted his face into a puzzled look, "Why would I be mad at them?"

Matthew looked down and made a new shoe print in a clean patch of snow, "I don't know, you were just ignoring them… Thought you might be angry."

Ludwig wasn't answering, so Francis knocked on the door again, not taking his eyes off of his son, "No, no, I was…" 'Incredibly depressed' was the answer, but Francis just shook his head, not wanting to think about it, "It's a long story."

Reading the atmosphere well, Matthew changed the subject, "Papa, there's a note on the door."

Francis furrowed his eyebrows and looked back to the door. There was a note taped at eye level that read: _I am working, please knock on the garage door if you need me. Danke._

Francis shrugged, and walked down the porch steps, the December snow crunching under his feet. He paced over to the left garage door, and knocked hardly on it, sending an echo throughout the room that Ludwig must have been in. Francis pulled his hand away, he didn't mean for the knock to be that loud. A few moments later, the garage creaked and pulled open. Ludwig was leaning against the back of a small truck in ragged, dirty jeans and a t-shirt. He smiled lightly when he saw them, "_Guten_ _Tag_." He greeted.

"_Bonjour_." Francis said back. Just the sound of his voice brought Berlin over in an instant, tail wagging, and whining excitedly. Francis bended down and scratched behind her ears, "Hello, Berlin, and how are you?"

Ludwig walked over and pressed a '_Open/Close'_ button on a remote that closed the garage door. "_Hallo_, Matthew, How was school?" He asked, turning and walking to the front of the car, seemingly getting ready to bend down under the hood that was raised.

Matthew smiled sweetly as he followed Ludwig, "It was good. John brought biscuits to class because it was his birthday."

"Really?" Ludwig prompted, grabbing a tool out of the toolbox.

Matthew nodded, "Yeah, so, since I had the biscuit, I didn't have enough room for all of my ham and cheese sandwich, can I give the rest to Berlin? I don't want to waste it."

Francis smiled to himself, Ludwig loved to spoil his dog rotten, and everyone knew it, even the eight-year-old. Ludwig glanced to the ceiling in thought before his eyes fell back to Matthew, "_Ja_, that's fine."

Matthew smiled, walked over to an empty area of the garage, set down his backpack and began unzipping it, "Berlin!"

Berlin immediately trotted over to Matthew and began sniffing him, begging for attention, or perhaps the sandwich she could probably already smell. Francis chuckled as he walked over to Ludwig, who was already back under the hood, "So, what brings you here?" The German asked.

Francis shrugged as he put his hands in his pockets, "Just wanted to chat," Ludwig mumbled something in German as he turned and tossed the tool back onto the box and searched for a different one. "If you're not too busy." Francis added.

Ludwig waved his hand dismissively, "_Nien_, I can work _und_ talk, besides, you've only recently started talking to me again." Ludwig's voice was slightly tainted with bitterness.

Guilt struck Francis for the millionth time in his life. He sighed, "I'm sorry, it wasn't you. I was-" Francis cut himself off as he looked over to Matthew to make sure he wasn't paying attention. The boy was now over by the large dog bed, where Berlin laid, petting the dog as he hummed. Francis looked back at Ludwig and lowered his voice, "Very depressed."

Ludwig looked at him with a sternly, "I won't take offence to that, but, that's still not an excuse for not talking to me."

Francis was thrown, people were usually understanding about that, "Not an-"

Ludwig interrupted him, "Obviously, you were very low to ignore me _that_ much. Next time, you talk to me anyway, _und_ if I can't help, I'll find someone who can."

Although, a bit rough around the edges, Ludwig was an extremely loyal friend, and definitely the 'If you die, I will kill you' type of friend as well. Francis smiled as he remembered that, "I will, Ludwig, don't worry about me."

Ludwig grabbed the tool he was looking for and turned back to the car with an eyeroll, "You make it so hard! Why do all the people I associate with stress me out like this? I swear to _Gott_, one of you are going to give me a heart attack someday!" With an exasperated sigh, Ludwig changed subjects, "How is Arthur doing?"

Francis ran his fingers through his hair, "I haven't been able to see him today, but he is so much more aware, his head isn't too cloudy anymore, his speech and communication are improving greatly, and his personality…" Francis sighed happily as he dropped his hand to his side, "He's himself again."

Ludwig glanced at Francis from under the hood with a smile, then looked back down to what he was working on, "Improved a lot this week? That was fast."

"_Oui_, he-"

Francis' phone rang.

"_Excusez-moi_," He said, turning away from Ludwig and opening his phone, "Hello?"

"Mr. Bonnefoy? It's Ralph."

Fear struck Francis' heart, a call from the hospital is almost never good, "_Oui?_"

"I am so sorry to bother you, but Arthur is requesting to speak with you."

Francis drew his eyebrows together, "About what?"

"Um-er…" Ralph paused, "His awareness level is almost back to normal, so he had some questions, and asked me why he was in the hospital."

Francis sighed, "But you didn't tell him, I or his brother, Lain are supposed to."

Ralph sounded almost nervous, "Due to his awareness level, I couldn't withhold any information from him anymore. So, I had to."

Francis ran his fingers through his light-blonde hair again, but didn't say anything.

"He has some more questions," Ralph continued, "But, he wanted to speak with you, not me."

Francis sighed, "Alright, I won't be long."

"Thank you so much, mate, if I don't see you, have a nice day."

"_Oui_, you too."

"Alrightie, bye, Frank."

"Don't call me-" Before Francis could correct the Aussie, he was hung up on.

"That didn't sound too good," Ludwig chimed in, "Everything alright?"

Francis sighed again, "_Oui_, just Arthur knows that he was in a coma for three years, and now he has questions."

"Well," Ludwig grunted, trying to reach far down into the truck as far as possible, "We knew that was coming sooner or later, _und_-" he paused as he pulled something small out of the vehicle, "He's well enough to understand it, that's a good sign."

Francis nodded, "Good point." He turned to Matthew, who was still humming and stroking Berlin, "Matthew, let's go see Arthur."

"Okay." The boy said, getting to his feet, "Goodbye, Ludwig."

Francis took his car keys out of his pocket and pressed the 'Open/Close' button, "_Oui_, bye."

"_Auf_ _Wiedersehen_." Ludwig responded from under the hood.

Francis walked out of the garage, tracked across his lawn, and hopped into his car.

…

…

Francis walked up to the closed hospital door. With a sigh, he turned to Matthew, "Could you stay here and wait in one of the chairs? I need to speak with him alone."

Matthew nodded, walked over to a chair, sat down, and started humming the same tune he was earlier. Francis sighed again, mentally preparing himself for the conversation that he knew was going to be difficult. He knocked on the door.

"That better be you, Francis!"

Arthur's voice barely made it through the door, but it was louder than usual. Francis looked at his feet. This was going to be harder than he thought. Francis opened the door, stepped in and closed the it gently behind him. Arthur was in a more inclined position, and his heart monitor was beeping at a slightly faster pace, and due to the look on the Brit's face, it was because he was angry. Looking like a scolded child, Francis carefully walked across the room and sat down in his chair. Although Arthur followed the movement with his eyes, he still didn't look at Francis directly. Perhaps the only thing that wasn't improving was his eyesight.

When Arthur didn't say anything, Francis started, "Ralph told me you had questions."

Arthur's words were still a little slurred, but they were much easier to understand than the other day, "I have been gone for three years, Francis, of course I do."

Just by the tone in Arthur's voice, Francis could tell that he was trying his best to stay calm, so Francis had to be careful. "What do you want to know?"

Arthur's words slurred more in frustration, "Everything!"

Francis sighed, "_Mon_ _Cher_,-"

"Don't '_Mon Cher_' me!" Arthur snapped, "Tell me everything that happened while I was gone."

Francis shook his head, "Please, you have to be more specific."

"Alright," Arthur responded, as if it were a challenge for him, "Why didn't you tell me this?"

Francis looked Arthur in the eyes, which were focused down towards Francis' nose or mouth. Francis knew that Arthur may never look at him in the eyes again, the thought depressed him, and made his voice sound empty, "Half the time, you weren't aware enough to understand."

Arthur shot a poorly-aimed death glare, "And when I was aware enough?"

"Arthur," Francis began, "This information is very stressful, and could have hindered your recovery."

"Sounds like an excuse to me." Arthur huffed.

Although Arthur probably couldn't tell, Francis scowled at him, "You really think that I would keep this from you just because?" His voice became desperate as his face fell, "I just wanted you to get better, Arthur, I missed you so much."

Arthur's eyes softened, and he looked at his hands. After a long moment, he looked back to Francis, "How were you able to keep me alive for this long anyway?"

For some reason, Francis wasn't expecting that question, "Pardon?"

Arthur elaborated a little, "I mean, there's no way that the hospital could have afforded to keep me on the... The..." He trailed off as he searched for the right word. He gave Francis a pleading look, but Francis just waited for him to finish it himself, "Life support... For three years?"

"Well, they didn't have to," Francis began, "You were on it for a few weeks, but the doctors weren't sure if you really needed it after your body began to heal…" Francis broke off, not really liking the stressful memory it was leading to.

"And?" The Englishman pushed.

Francis picked up his story, "They took the machines off, but your body was able to continue without them."

Arthur looked away, unmoving and unblinking. Something else that didn't seem to be getting better was the way Arthur would space-out. Francis went to snap him back to reality, but Arthur blinked and sighed, "What about the lung infection I was supposed to die from?"

"Never got one. Lucky bastard." Francis teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"That doesn't just happen!" Arthur exclaimed, "No one just survives a three year coma! Those are rare cases!"

Francis took a long pause, trying to figure out what he was going to say, "Ralph was sure you were going to come out of it after your severe concussion died down. That, and it wasn't a very deep coma, you twitched to pain, and you flinched when he popped a 'Get Well' balloon by your bed. Your concussion died down, and eventually healed, but you were… 'Stuck' as Ralph described it."

Arthur had that far-off look again, but this time, he didn't even seem to be breathing. Instead of giving Arthur the chance to come to himself, Francis reached over and patted his hand, "Arthur?" When Arthur didn't move, Francis patted his hand harder, "Arthur?" Still nothing. Francis stood, took Arthur's shoulder, and shook him, panicked, "Arthur!"

Arthur flinched and gasped, blinking rapidly, then took a slow, shaky breath to try and calm himself. Francis tried to get his attention, "Hey," Arthur looked up at him, fear in his eyes. Francis gave Arthur's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "Are you okay?"

Arthur looked off again for a moment, then closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, "I've been gone for three years of my life!" He exclaimed through a sob.

"_Mon_ _dieu_." Francis whispered to himself. He sat down on the bed and pulled Arthur close.

Arthur tried to continue talking through his sobs, "For three years I wasn't here for you!"

"Shh, Arth-" Francis started.

Arthur's sobs only became worse, "I haven't been there for Alfred!"

Francis tried to comfort him again, "It's okay, _Mon_ _Cher_, we'll-"

Arthur's voice was almost a yell, "I promised I wouldn't leave him! His mother died and I promised him-" Arthur broke down completely, unable to finish his statement.

Francis just held Arthur tighter without a word. He couldn't make things better, he couldn't promise that life would return to normal, there wasn't a way to comfort his Black Sheep. All he could do is let Arthur know that his Frog was there, and he wouldn't leave him.

…

…

…

Translations:

Adiós: (Spanish)- Goodbye

Merci: (French)- Thank You

Herregud: (Norwegian)- Oh, my God

Danke: (German)- Thank you

Hallo: (German)- Hello (Can also be used in Polish, like Feliks did in Chapter 6)

Gott: (German)- God

Excusez-moi: (French)- Excuse me

Mon Cher- (French)- My Dear

Other Notes:

Sorry for the longer wait, I had to do some research since I do not have experience with comatose first-hand. I hope everything is accurate, or at least pretty close to it.

I have been getting many emails about gaining followers, and thank you, it gives me some confidence in my story, and especially in my writing! Make sure to write reviews!

Ralph is an Austraila cameo, you may see him again. You saw Norway (Lukas) just as I promised a few chapters ago, this chapter also references Drac (Romania), you will see him too in later chapters, or at least I'm planning on it! Ludwig will continue to pop up here and there in the story, and eventually, you'll see Gilbert and experience his awesomeness!


	9. Chapter 9

The halls of the hospital became more alive as the date began closing in on December 25th, and it was contagious. Francis bopped down the hall, whistling to a Christmas song he heard on the radio, smiling at patients and visitors as he went. He was in great mood. Why wouldn't he be? Arthur was back, Alfred was returning to normal, Lain wasn't as irritable, Matthew was responding to therapy again, his brothers and Ludwig forgave him, and to top it all off, Christmas was just around the corner, just like Arthur's recovery room.

Francis thought he heard some commotion from the other side of the closed door, but he didn't pay attention to it. He just opened the door and went to swing in so he could annoy and tease Arthur to wits end… As usual. But, Francis' smile dropped when he opened the door and saw the commotion. Arthur was hunched over in a sitting position, and had Ralph, along with another nurse on either side, holding him up. The nurse held a bowl in front of Arthur, that he was currently throwing up into, while Ralph rubbed the poor Brit's back, trying to keep him calm. Feeling sick to his stomach himself, Francis turned back into the hallway and closed the door quietly, hoping Arthur hadn't noticed.

Francis went to sit just outside the door in a chair, but even through the hospital door, he could still hear it. He went to the cafeteria to get some coffee, there, he chatted with an elderly woman to pass some time before he headed back to Arthur's room. On the way through the hallway, he spotted Ralph who smiled at him before entering another patient's room, so Francis deemed it safe to try and walk through Arthur's door again. When he did, Arthur was laying back down in his bed, reclined more than he had been for the past week or so.

Since Arthur looked asleep, Francis closed the door carefully, and walked across the room as quietly as possible. When he was about half way across the room, Arthur opened his eyes, "Who's there?" The look on his face and the tone in his voice broke Francis, he seemed so miserable.

"It's me, sorry to wake you." Francis said as soothingly as possible.

Arthur nodded, "I figured that was you. You need to learn how to knock. You could have avoided seeing that."

So Arthur did notice. Francis took this as a chance to ask questions, "What was that all about?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Getting used to solid, well… Solid-_ish_ food."

Francis hummed in thought, "Well, that makes sense, your last solid meal was that dinner we had with Antonio and the kids."

"Well, it fucking sucks, in case you're wondering." Arthur sighed in exasperation, "How are Antonio and your brothers anyway?"

Francis let Arthur change the subject, "They are well. I'm a little disappointed, though. None of them are going to be able to make it out here for Christmas."

"Oh," Arthur paused, "That is disappointing, I was looking forward to meeting your other brothers, and to see Antonio again."

"Yeah, me too," Francis glanced over to the small table by Arthur's bed, there sat a pair of glasses. Francis picked them up, "Why are there glasses here?"

"Oh, bugger," Arthur said, tiredly, "I forgot about that. My eyesight wasn't getting better, apparently it's due to brain damage, I had an eye exam the other day, didn't I mention that?"

Francis shook his head, "No."

"Well, I meant to…" Arthur's trailed off as his eyes darkened, he was obviously not liking the damage that the crash had caused. He had to concentrate so he wouldn't slur his words, couldn't see, was unable to walk, or even sit up by himself, and was scatterbrained more than he already was, not to mention his problem with spacing-out, all on top of the fact he was gone three years. Although lucky to be alive and awake, he wasn't taking any of this well.

"You had an eye exam the other day…" Francis prompted, trying to get Arthur back on track.

Arthur was silent for a long moment before speaking again, "I was deemed legally blind, with that and the spacing-out problem, I'll never drive again." Arthur's eyes shined a bit as he took a shaky inhale to keep his composure, "The glasses will help, but they aren't completely effective. I should be able to see things well enough to read and write, if it's close enough to me, but, seeing things further away is the problem."

Francis tried to cheer Arthur up by looking at the bright side, "Well, if you can read and write, then you'll be able to go back and teach in the classroom. I mean you don't really need to see far way, you can have a wristwatch, so you can see the time, and a teacher's aid to make sure the kids in back aren't cheating."

Arthur smiled a bit, "Good point, at least I won't be out of a job."

Francis continued that statement, "At least you can continue doing what you love to do."

Arthur smiled wider and let out a huff of disbelief, "Wow, I hadn't realized how much I've been missing the classroom until now."

"_Oui_, and just think," Francis started, "You are starting physical therapy next week so you can eventually walk again. You'll hopefully be out of the hospital and in a wheelchair by late January. Even if you're still in the wheelchair by the next school year, you can still teach."

Arthur let out another breath, "Wow."

Francis smiled warmly, "You are going to get better, Arthur. It will be slow and hard, but you're going to recover from this." When he got a hopeful smile from Arthur, Francis changed his voice to a teasing tone, "Now, to urgent matters. Have you tried your glasses?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but his smiled remained, "Yes, I don't like them, I look too different!"

Francis chuckled, "Nonsense, Mon Cher, I bet they look beautiful on you!" Francis put the folded pair of glasses into Arthur's hand, "C'mon, show me! _S'il vous plaît_!"

Arthur sighed as if Francis was being overdramatic, "Fine, fine." He took the glasses, unfolded them, put them on his face, and adjusted them on his nose. "There, happy?" Arthur turned his head, and for the first time in three years, looked at Francis in the eyes.

Francis just stared back at him, wide eyed. He had forgotten how green Arthur's eyes were. Like fresh, bright, spring leaves.

"Well?" Arthur said, after Francis didn't respond.

Francis blinked away happy tears, "Beautiful."

Before his cheeks could turn red, Arthur's face twisted in confusion. Francis tilted his head, "What? What is it?"

Arthur slowly reached out, gently touched the left side of Francis chin, and turned his head to the right. Arthur then began to trace the small, dark lines on Francis' left cheek. "What happened here?" Arthur asked.

"Oh," Francis started, as casually as possible, "I was scratched pretty badly by the broken glass from the window in the car crash."

Arthur's hand dropped to the side of Francis neck and traced a scar that was aligned with his temple, "That could have been your artery." Arthur closed his eyes and took his hand away, "I could have killed you in the car wreck."

Francis shook his head and grabbed Arthur's hand, "No, no, we are not going to think about that, we are going to think about the physical therapy, and the wheelchair, and how you are going to start teaching this autumn."

Arthur said nothing.

"Okay?" Francis said, moving his head into Arthur's line of sight.

Arthur eyes adjusted under his glasses as he took a quivering breath, "Okay." He whispered.

Francis squeezed his hand, "_Je t'aime_."

Arthur seemed thrown, "You love me?"

Francis drew his eyebrows together, "Uh, _oui?_ At least, the last time I checked I did."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, "Please don't tell me that you spent the last three years alone, sitting at my bedside, mourning."

Francis couldn't help but smile, "Fine, I won't tell you."

Arthur chuckled a bit, looked at Francis, who just continued smiling at him, and let out another breath, "I love you too, Francis."

Francis heard the door open behind him, when he turned, he saw Lain with Alfred and Matthew walking in. Lain wore a faint, yet amused smile, "Nice glasses, Four-Eyes."

Arthur responded with excessive sarcasm, "Oh, _ha-ha_! You're so very clever! Go spread you comical wit somewhere else!"

Francis snorted into his hand while trying not to laugh, and successfully earned a glare from the Scotsmen. Francis tried to cover himself up by pretending to clear his throat, but it didn't work well, so he focused on greeting his son instead.

Ignoring the people around him, Alfred walked up to the bed, and through reflex, took his father's hand, "I like you glasses, Dad."

Arthur looked thrown again, "I… Like your glasses too, when did you get them?"

Alfred tilted his head, "Yeah, I've been wearing them this whole time."

"Your father's eyesight was horrible before he got his glasses today, Alfie." Lain reminded his nephew.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot." Alfred said in thought, "I got them…" He looked to his uncle, "When did I get them?"

Lain glanced to the ceiling, then back down to Alfred, "About a year after the crash."

Alfred turned back to his father, "Yeah. How are you feeling?"

Alfred seemed a bit paranoid about how his father was doing. He loved having his father back, but was scared of losing him again, which caused him to ask this question a few times a day. Arthur just smiled sadly at his son, "I'm doing okay."

Alfred looked panicked, "Just okay?"

"Well," Arthur thought for a moment while trying to figure a way to explain this, "I am actually doing quite well, but, it's hard knowing I've been gone so long. I mean you're so much older, and I wasn't there for it."

Alfred began to comfort him, "It's okay, Dad, it's not your fault," Then, his expression changed to anger, "It's that stupid drunk driver who rammed into you!"

"Alfred, we do not call people 'stupid'." Lain said calmly.

"Maybe _you_ don't." Alfred grumbled. Although he was much better, Alfred was still a little angry.

Arthur smiled reassuringly "_Alfred_," he said in a soothing, father-like tone, "Why are you angry?"

Alfred stumbled over his words until he blurted it out, "Because that stupid man took you away!"

Arthur kept his voice calm and controlled, "But, Alfred, I'm here now, it's okay."

"But-but-" Tears began to roll down the young boy's face. Matthew tried to step forward to comfort his friend, but Francis stopped him, it had been three years since Alfred had his father to comfort him, so no one was going to interrupt this. Alfred continued to try to talk through his sobs, "But, you're not the same! You're wearing glasses, and-and, you were acting funny!"

Arthur began to run his thumb of Alfred's knuckles, "Shh, Alfred calm down. Take a few deep breaths." Alfred did what he was told, and when his sobs slowly became uneven breathing, Arthur spoke again, "Think about it Alfred, I'm not acting funny anymore, am I?"

Alfred shook his head, still trying to calm himself down, but more tears gathered in his eyes, "You can't stand or anything."

Arthur hushed him again, "Ssh, I will walk again, Alfred, a different doctor is going to come next week, and help me gain the strength so I can."

Alfred's distressed face turned into an expression of curiosity, "There are doctors for that?"

Arthur nodded, "Yes, Alfred, there are."

Alfred paused before he let go of his father's hand and threw his arms up in frustration, "Well, no one told me this! How am I supposed to not be mad if no one tells me these things?"

"It's okay, Al," Matthew chimed, "If I know anything, I'll tell you."

"Thanks, Mattie," Alfred sniffed, "You're the best."

Francis had begun to wonder if he should leave the father and son alone for a while, but, with Alfred cooling down much faster than everyone imagined, everything was beginning to close. Arthur reached over and put his hand on his son's shoulder, "You okay?"

Alfred turned to his dad and nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine."

There was a long awkward silence before Matthew tilted his head, "Arthur?" When Arthur hummed in a reply, Matthew continued, "I was talking to Toris, my therapist, and he mentioned something about comas, and I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

Francis looked at the ground, slightly saddened, the poor boy thought he had to ask if he could ask a question. Although it was polite, considering the stressful subject, he was probably doing it out of fear unconsciously. But, at least he was asking questions.

Arthur gave Matthew a strange look before agreeing, "Go head."

Matthew looked at his down at his feet, "Do you remember being in the coma?"

"No, I-" Then, Arthur suddenly stared off into space.

Francis was surprised how quick this happened, and actually began to panic, "Arthur?"

Just as fast as Arthur fell into it, he snapped back out, "Yes, I…" his eyes wandered around the room as he thought, "I do remember."

Francis and Lain shared a glance of shock with each other before looking back to Arthur, "What do you remember?" Francis asked slowly and cautiously.

Arthur stared at the wall on the other side of the room, "Voices."

"Any specific ones?" Lain tested.

Arthur nodded, still with that far-off look, "Francis… I remember hearing Francis a lot… And yours… Alfred's… I don't remember hearing Matthew, though."

"I'm sorry!" Matthew said on impulse, "I talked to you a few times, but it felt weird."

Arthur ignored him, "Ralph, Lukas and Drac… Maybe Ludwig at some point…"

Alfred was wide-eyed in awe, desperate to ask his question, "Do you remember anything I said?"

Arthur's thick eyebrows drew together in thought, "I remember 'Hellos' and other greetings, as well as 'goodbyes'... 'I love yous' and 'We miss yous'... 'Happy birthdays' and 'Merry Christmases'..." He trailed off.

Francis couldn't contain his amazement, he wanted to know more, "Anything else?"

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, until he looked down at his left wrist, were his I.V. was, "I remember feeling the I.V., and getting blood drawn, or maybe they were shots?" He paused, and looked at his right hand, "I remember my hand being held… And the beeping of the heart monitor… And…" Arthur's face scrunched up in confusion as he turned to Francis, "And this very, very annoying clicking sound."

"Clicking?" Francis thought for a moment, staring out the window across from him, then he remembered, "Oh! I worked on my laptop a lot while I was in here. That could have been my keyboard."

Everyone was silent as they waited for Arthur to talk about something else that he remembered, but Arthur just glanced from one person to the next nervously, "I think that's all, guys."

"_Awesome_." Alfred said, as if this was the coolest thing he had ever heard in his nine-year-old life.

"I'm with the kid," Lain stated, "That's remarkable."

Francis chuckled, "Lukas is going to get a kick out of this."

Lain nodded eagerly, "Yeah, no kidding."

Arthur shook his head, his voice stressed in disbelief, "I don't even know how I remembered it, it just…," He shrugged, "I don't know."

Francis looked from Lain to Arthur. Arthur was beginning to stare off absently again, and although this happened less often, Francis was beginning to realize that Arthur was more prone to it when he was tired. "Alright," Francis said as he stood, "You're looking tired."

Arthur looked at Francis like an abandoned child, "What?" He waved his hand dismissively, "I'm fine."

Francis leaned down and lowered his voice, "You ate solid-ish food and couldn't keep it down, were a bit depressed about all of this, had to comfort Alfred, and remembered a lot that no one thought you would." Francis kissed his Briton on the cheek, "Today was a big day, now you need rest."

Arthur huffed, "I am now fully aware of my surroundings, Francis, I do not need rest."

Francis did nothing but give Arthur a blank stare. Arthur stared back until he rolled his eyes, "Fine, if it will stop you from worrying."

Francis bended back down and kissed Arthur on the top of his head, "That's a good Black Sheep," Francis turned around, looking at Arthur over his shoulder, "Now, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Alfred and Matthew said simultaneously.

"Goodbye, Francis, bye, Boys." Arthur said warmly.

"Bye, Four-Eyes." Lain said with a smile.

As Francis left the room, he could hear Arthur snap at the Scotsman, "Oh, bugger off, Lain!"

…

…

Arthur stared off into nothing. Not seeing or hearing anything. He had no thoughts or mental processes. No emotion, no pain, just that blissful, peaceful nothing that Arthur had come to know far too well.

Arthur jolted out of it when he felt his hand being squeezed almost painfully. He darted his eyes around the room, trying to remember something - _anything_ \- but he still didn't know where he was, and what was happening.

"Arthur?"

He turned to the sound of his name. When he did, he saw Francis. Reality set back in, and he smiled at the Frog, "Oh, hello Francis."

Francis' smile seemed forced, "You alright?"

Arthur nodded, "Of course, Francis," he took his hand out of his partner's and waved dismissively at him, "I was only spacing-out, nothing to be concerned with." Francis just stared at him, as if waiting for him to admit something. Wanting to drop the conversation, Arthur changed subjects, "How are you?"

Francis blinked at him with a deadpan expression for a moment until breaking into a smile, "I am well."

There was a long silence, which was strange because Francis was usually chatty. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you sure?"

"Well," Francis ran his fingers through his long hair, "There is something I need to talk to you about."

Though those words could mean trouble, Francis' voice wasn't too serious or dreadful, so Arthur remained casual, "And what would that be?"

"You living situation after you are released from the hospital."

Arthur drew his eyebrows together and reached for the water on the bedside table, "Well, I thought that Alfred was going to leave Scotland, and we were going to live in my house." He said as he put the cup to his lips.

Arthur could hear the guilt in Francis' voice, "Well, uh, Lain sold your house."

Arthur sucked in a breath of water, causing him to go into a coughing fit. Francis leaned forward and patted him on the back, laughing nervously, "Water down the wrong pipe?"

Arthur looked at him in shock, "WHAT?" Francis flinched, and Arthur slapped a hand over his own mouth when he realized how much his voice had cracked. Anger flooded his mind, he put his hand down and glared at the Frenchman, "He sold my house?"

Francis' reassuring smile seemed forced, "_Mon_ _Cher_, you weren't there to-"

"You're right!" Arthur interrupted, "I wasn't there! So, he didn't have that right!"

Francis tried to hold Arthur's hand, but Arthur just pulled away. Francis looked down with a collective sigh, and lifted his head, "After Kate passed away, you signed papers indicating that Lain was your next-of-kin, so he had to pay the bills, but after a while, he couldn't. So, he did have the right."

Then it hit him. _Kate_. How could have he forgotten? He felt like breaking down, but he decided that he didn't want to think about it. He just pretended that he didn't hear the part about his dead wife. Beginning to feel his mind slip away again, he shook his head, and tried not to show the stumble in his side of the conversation. "But, that's the house I moved into when I got married! I raised Alfred in that house! That was _my_ house! How could he do this? It's not like I was dead!"

Francis was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke, "He needed the money-"

"For what?" Arthur spat, "For his cigarettes?"

"To take care of Alfred."

Arthur felt the familiar stab of guilt. Sure, Lain could be a real arse, be he did care deeply about Alfred, and he wouldn't just throw away the house unless there was an important reason. Arthur sighed, between the guilt and the depression of Kate's death coming back to him, he had to blink away tears. In an attempt to recover, he just continued the conversation, his voice low and hollow, "What about all my things?"

Francis smiled lightly, and although it was small it did take some of the pain away, "I helped Lain sell furniture and carpet, but everything else went into a storage unit."

"Okay." There was a very long silence until Arthur took another sigh, still trying to calm his nerves, "What's my new living situation?"

"Well," Francis began, "You really shouldn't live alone until you're walking again, _oui_?"

Arthur looked away as he thought for a moment. He really didn't want to agree, he hated feeling weak, and hated the thought of someone taking care of him like that, but there really wasn't a way to avoid it. "I suppose so."

Francis nodded, "Well, you could move to Scotland, and live with Lain."

"Oh, yes!" Arthur replied in a thick, sarcastic tone, "All the arguing will be a great environment for Alfred!"

"Alright, plan B." Francis suddenly seemed a bit awkward, "I checked over my finances, and it seems that I can support two more people."

When Arthur turned back, he found the Frenchman blushing a little, which Arthur had to admit to himself, it was adorable.

"So, Alfred could move back to England," Francis continued in an even more awkward tone, "And you two could live with Matthew and I."

"Are you..." Arthur hesitated, "Asking me to move in with you?"

Francis' blush deepened, "Well, we have been dating for more than three years." He joked with some more nervous laughter, "But, it's your decision, I've talked with Lain, and he's fine with either."

Arthur could feel his own cheeks heat up a bit. He tried to keep his composure, but the butterflies in his stomach were relentless, so much so that he was almost convinced that the solid-ish food from earlier was going to come back up… Again.

Francis seemed to avoid eye contact as he played with his hair, "You can take your time, I mean, it a pretty big choice, and-"

"Yes." Arthur said on impulse.

Francis tilted his head, "_Quoi?_ 'Yes' to what?"

"I-" Arthur's cheeks felt warmer, but he kept his composure, and covered himself up with logic, "Well, I'm sure that Alfred will be happier in England than he is in Scotland." A wide, bright smile grew on Francis' lips as Arthur continued, "And if I stay here, I don't have to look for a new school to work at."

Francis got up and hugged Arthur tightly, "_Oui! Je t'aime!_ Oh, Arthur, I love you! I love you!" He repeated as he rapidly kissed Arthur's cheeks, and forehead, the bridge of his nose, until he made his way to Arthur's lips where he gave him a long and gentle kiss.

Francis pulled away and ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. Arthur loved it when Francis did that, it always felt so nice, "Oh, god, I missed you." He said.

Arthur gave a taunting smile, "I know, I would miss me too."

…

_Christmas _

…

Francis was always one to hit the '_snooze_' button for a good fifteen or twenty minutes, but when he realised that it was December 25th, he jumped up out of his bed, slipped on a shirt and a pair of sweats, and ran down the hallway. Although he could be immature at times, he really let his child-self out on holidays.

He quickly and loudly opened Matthew's door, causing the boy to bolt upright in his bed, "I'm sorry!"

Francis ignored the reflexed apology, he just shouted back, happily, not caring how thick his accent got when he did, "Matthew! Get up and get dressed! It's Christmas!"

Matthew's fearful look dissipated and was replaced with joy as he threw back his covers and got out of bed, "It's Christmas!" He echoed, his voice much louder than usual.

Francis turned and went back into his room to get ready. He put on a pair of jeans, a casual, yet nice looking shirt, and tied his hair back, low and loose, in a red and green ribbon. He was excited beyond belief, he had never had the chance to really spend Christmas with Arthur, and after three years, he finally could.

As he finished tying up his hair, he could hear Matthew on the other side of the bedroom door, "Hurry, Papa!"

"_Oui, Mon Fils_," Francis said as he swung open his door, "I'm here, let's go."

Francis and Matthew struggled to get their coats on, and just before Francis was going to retrieve his car keys, there was a knock at his door. He quickly got his keys from the small bowl on the coffee table, and made his way to his front door. When he opened it, he saw Ludwig.

"_Frohe Weihnachten_." The German said, shyly.

Francis tackled his friend in a hug, "Oh,_ Joyeux Noël_, Ludwig!" It took a moment for Ludwig to respond, but eventually, he did raise his hands and patted Francis on the back

"I actually have a present for you." Ludwig said, after they broke away.

More happiness flooded Francis' mind. He tried to swallow his excitement, but his child-self was too strong, "Really? Oh, you're too kind!"

"_Ja_, uh…" Seemingly not knowing what to say, Ludwig took a step to the side, revealing a large, sturdy-looking, wooden plank angled on the porch steps.

Francis tilted his head and gave the German a fake smile, "Uh, _Merci_, but… What is it?"

"Well," Ludwig began, "You told me that Arthur was going to live here, _und_ that he would be in a wheelchair, so I took measurements of the porch steps _und_ made you guys a ramp."

Francis looked at Ludwig with wide eyes, "No!" He said in disbelief. He ran down the ramp and looked at it from the side. The ramp was thick and cut to fit the steps perfectly. Francis couldn't help the wide smile that grew when he realized that Ludwig had just taken a huge burden off of his shoulders, and made things a whole lot easier. He ran back up the ramp and tackled his friend in another hug, "Thank you! _Merci!_ _Merci_! This helps us so much!" Before Ludwig could reply, Francis broke away to look at him, "How did you do this?"

Ludwig looked away, obviously embarrassed from the gratitude, "Well, it's no big deal, I'm just good with _mien_ hands, that's all."

Francis shook his head, "You have no idea how much this helps us!" Once again, before Ludwig could say anything, Francis beamed another smile, "You have to come and see Arthur! You have to tell him!"

Ludwig glanced at the cloudy sky, thinking, "Well, I am meeting up with Gilbert, but he sleeps in so much, I doubt he's up now…" Ludwig's eyes fell back to Francis, a small grin forming, "I guess I could follow you to the _Krankenhaus_ to see Arthur, _und_ leave to see _Bruder_ from there."

Francis clasped his hands together in excitement, "Good! Are you ready now?" When Ludwig nodded, Francis turned back into his house and called, "Matthew, time to go."

Matthew jogged around the corner, "Sorry." When he walked through the doorway, he smiled gently at Ludwig, "Merry Christmas!"

Ludwig smiled back, although he didn't like to be around children that much, it had seemed that Matthew and Alfred became the German's soft-spot, "_Und Frohe Weihnachten_, to you, Matthew." As Matthew walked to the car, Ludwig looked back to Francis, "I'll see you at the Krankenhaus?"

Francis locked his house, "_Oui_, see you then."

He got into his car and made his way to the hospital, of course, not before taking pictures of the ramp on his phone. Arthur wasn't going to believe this.

…

…

Arthur remained in and out of a light doze. He wanted to sleep, but since it was Christmas, the halls just outside of his room were louder than usual with all the extra visitors. Part of him wanted to be irritated, but it was hard to be, after all, it was Christmas.

Arthur adjusted himself in his bed, then immediately regretted it when his sore muscles reminded him of the physical therapy from the past week. Although his back was beginning to ache from lying on it for so long, he decided not to roll on his side, it did take a lot of strength that he would usually sacrifice for comfort, but with his tired muscles screaming at him, he decided against it. He just relaxed back into his pillow, sighing in relief as the pain immediately subsided.

Arthur was almost in a doze again when heard the door fly open. He was about to ask who it was, but his question was answered with a voice speaking fluent French, "J_oyeux Noël, Mon Cher!_"

"Merry-" Is all he could say back before he was trapped in a back-cracking hug, "Francis, I am sore, you bloody Frog!"

Francis pulled away quickly, "_Je suis désolé!_"

Arthur sighed in exasperation, put on his glasses and began inclining his bed with the remote, "English, please. I only know enough to give tourists directions."

"I slipped into French?" The Frog said in a confused tone.

"_Oui_, you did."

Arthur picked his head up from the remote to Matthew, "You speak French?"

Matthew's smile was bigger than he had ever seen. Francis had mentioned that his son had always seemed to be surprised about holidays and birthdays, since he never really celebrated them before his adoption.

The boy nodded eagerly, "Not all of it, but Papa has been teaching me! And Merry Christmas!"

Arthur felt a bit of sadness. Matthew was doing so much better than he had last seen. It was strange to think that the fearful, scared, broken-minded boy could only be classified as 'shy' now. And Arthur was here, lying in a coma while it happened. But he had to remind himself that Matthew was doing a whole lot better, and that he should be happy for the boy, not sad that he had missed it. So, Arthur smiled, "Merry Christmas, Matthew, I see you are doing well."

Matthew nodded, but didn't say anything else.

"Uh,_ Frohe Weihnachten._"

The voice caught Arthur off guard, and when he looked up, he saw Ludwig. He couldn't help a smile from forming, he didn't know Ludwig nearly as well as Francis did, but it was still nice to see a familiar face. "Ludwig," He said, letting his surprise show in his voice, "It is nice to see you."

A guilty expression crossed Ludwig's face, "_Ja,_ it's nice to see you too, but I can't stay long."

It was strange, it looked almost as if Francis was bouncing where he stood. Arthur gave his boyfriend an annoyed glance before continuing the conversation, "Oh, trust me it oka-"

"You're not going to believe this!" Francis nearly shouted.

"I was in the middle of-"

Francis interrupted him again as he pulled out his phone, "No! You don't understand!"

Arthur rolled his eyes as the phone was shoved into his face. He took the phone and adjusted his glasses, for they still needed to be fitted a little. The picture on Francis' phone was of the front porch steps, with a wooden plank set on top of them. Arthur raised an eyebrow and gave a sidelong glance at the Frenchman, "What is this?"

"Er," Ludwig began, stumbling on his words, "Francis told me that you would be in a wheelchair, so I made you a ramp that fit the few steps on the porch."

"What?" Arthur looked back at the phone to confirm it, not really believing what the German had told him, but it was true. He looked back to Ludwig, still not believing how someone could be so kind, "You didn't have to do that, we could have figured something out. This must had taken so much time." He said, feeling guilty for taking his friend's time, and embarrassed that he even needed a ramp.

Ludwig shrugged, "_Ja_, but I enjoy working like this, so the time flew by. _Und_, I wanted to help as much as possible."

Arthur took his eyes off of the picture to look at Ludwig, "There is no way to thank you enough. You have no idea how much this helps us."

Ludwig opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when Alfred and Lain walked in. Alfred's cheerful face brightened even more, "Ludwig!" The German turned right as Alfred hugged him tightly.

This surprised Arthur nearly to wits end, until he noticed, yet again, how long he had been gone. Obviously, since Alfred and Matthew were so close, that meant that Alfred had spent time with Francis too, and since Ludwig was Francis' best friend, Alfred was probably very close to Ludwig. But, again, Arthur reminded himself that he should be happy that Alfred was making friends, not sad that he hadn't been there to see it. So, he forced a smile.

Alfred broke away from Ludwig, "Merry Christmas!" Ludwig didn't get the time to respond before Alfred spoke again, "Oh! How do you say 'Merry Christmas' in German?"

Ludwig bended down a little so he didn't tower over the boy so much, "_Frohe Weihnachten_."

Alfred twisted his face in confusion, "I'm gonna have to practice that one later." Then, the nine-year-old got distracted, and ran over the Matthew and Francis to wish them a Merry Christmas.

Once again, before Ludwig could say anything, he was interrupted, but this time it was his cell phone. He took it out of his pocket, looked at the caller ID, and gave Arthur an apologetic glance, "Sorry, that's mien _bruder_. I have to leave."

Arthur waved him off, "It's Christmas, go spend time with your family. Thank you so much for everything."

Ludwig smiled as he left the room, "You're welcome, and feel better!"

Besides Alfred chatting idly to Matthew the room was basically silent, until Lain snapped out of whatever daydream he was in and looked to Arthur, "I know you've already gotten this a thousand times, but, Merry Christmas."

Alfred skipped over and took his Arthur's hand, "Yeah! Merry Christmas!"

Arthur smiled at both of them, "Merry Christmas to you too, all of you."

Francis leaned forward in the bedside chair, "I have a present!" He sang.

Alfred gasped, "What? I thought we weren't supposed to bring presents!"

Arthur looked to Lain curiously, "Why couldn't Alfred bring a present?"

Lain held up an extremely thick stack of 'Get Well' cards, "I thought you had enough to open."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, "More than enough."

Francis cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention, "As I said, I have a present!" He exclaimed, holding out a rectangular box wrapped in red wrapping paper.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You're being over-dramatic again."

Francis said nothing as he set the box on Arthur's lap. Arthur gave him one last glance before ripping apart the wrapping paper. His shoulders fell as his heart sunk in his chest when he saw what it was: A sight for his bow. The bow that his eyesight was too poor for him to use, even with his glasses. Arthur loved archery, and when he realized that he would never shoot again, he actually cried. Apparently, he hadn't told Francis… But he meant to.

Arthur bit his lip, and resisted more tears, "Francis, this is very thoughtful, but my eyesight is too poor. I can't use it."

Francis was silent for a moment, until he spoke cautiously, "You said that you had trouble seeing things far away, so, I thought that the sight would magnify it for you."

Arthur thought about it for a moment, it did make sense… A lot of sense. Sights are used to get a closer look at the target. With the proper sight, he may be able to shoot again, and by the intensity of the one Francis had given him, there were stronger ones if it didn't work. Arthur's sorrow suddenly turned to joy, in fact, it had been a long time since he had felt this happy.

Francis continued into an apology, "I must have misunderstood what the man behind the counter was saying, I'm sorry."

Arthur shook his head, "No, Francis, you're right! I didn't even make that connection!"

Francis' expression brightened, "Really?"

Arthur nodded eagerly, "Yes. And if this one doesn't work, there are stronger ones out there." He motioned Francis' to come closer, and when he did, Arthur gave him a quick kiss, "Thank you, Love."

"That was weird," Alfred commented as he turned to Matthew, "I never seen two guys kiss before."

Matthew only shrugged.

Ignoring the kids, Lain tossed the stack of cards onto Arthur's lap, "Alright, start reading them."

Arthur read each card aloud while Francis and Lain listened, and the boys chatted to each other quietly. Most of the cards were from students. Although Arthur recognized most of the names, there were some he didn't, and some others whose handwriting was too sloppy to tell. The other cards were mostly from teachers and other staff members. A small portion were from acquaintances, like Tino and Berwald, and from family members that he hadn't spoken to in years, even his other two older brothers, Patrick and Dylan, who shared one card.

Arthur was waiting for a certain card, but he never got it. He closed the last one in the stack and looked at Lain, afraid to ask his question, "What about Mum and Dad?"

Lain's expression hinted to anger as he glanced at Francis, who just smiled at the boys, "Hey, why don't the three of us go and get something to eat from the cafeteria?"

Alfred jumped to his feet from his awkward position on the floor, "Finally! I haven't eaten in, like, _forever_!"

Francis got up with a half-hearted smile and left with Alfred and Matthew following him. Once Francis left, Lain sat down on the edge of the bed by Arthur's side. No one was being casual about it, so Arthur braced himself for bad news. Lain didn't say anything at first, thinking before he spoke in a calm tone, "Do you remember that our parents and I haven't been on the best terms since my divorce?"

Arthur drew his eyebrows together, he had no idea where his brother was going with this, "Yes."

Lain sighed, "Do you know why that is?" When Arthur shook his head, he continued, "Beth divorced me because I couldn't give her a child."

Arthur nodded, "You did tell me that part."

"Well," Lain said, with another sigh, "When I told Mum and Dad that part, they said that the reason that I could not have biological children was because I was being punished by God."

"What?" Arthur said in disbelief, "Have I really forgotten how religious they are?"

Lain ran his finger through his hair, "I didn't tell you that because I was so livid at the time. I was going to tell you but," Lain paused, as if debating whether or not he should continue, "But, then Kate passed away… And when I told Mum and Dad about it, they said that God was punishing you."

He knew his parents were angry at him, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. But, despite the heartbroken look on Arthur's face, Lain kept on talking, "So I told them that if they arrived to the funeral, I would call the police." Lain began avoiding eye contact, his anger expressing more with each word, "Seven months later, a drunk driver rammed into your door and put you in a fucking coma, and do you know what they said when i told them?"

Arthur said nothing, hoping that his silence would prompt Lain to continue, and it didn't take long, "They said, 'Whoever that Arthur is, God sure does hate him.' And they hung up. Haven't picked up the phone since."

Arthur didn't believe in God, or Heaven, or Hell, but the words broke him. Sure, his parents were angry at him, they had always been, but, he never thought that they would disown him… _Hate_ him. He tried to keep his composure, but it failed without a chance. For the second time in his adult life, he cried in front of Lain, and for the first time since he they were children, Lain hugged him willingly.

Although, it did explain a lot about how Lain had been acting since his divorce. Shut out by their parents, Lain must have decided to look for his company because he had a bad relationship with their parents as well. It also explained how nice Lain was being, after all, Lain was the only family Arthur had left, besides Alfred.

Arthur told himself that he should be happy that he finally knew the truth, and that he could reconnect with Lain. Also, how well Matthew was doing, and that Alfred was making friends. He told himself that he had a future. He was already making progress in his physical therapy, he could probably shoot again, and it was guaranteed that he had a teaching job next autumn. But, it was so hard to think like that. Everything was so different, even the little details, like how much lighter Francis' annoying, yet adorable French accent was. Everything was changed, and he couldn't do anything about it.

…

…

...

Translations:

S'il vous plaît: (French)- Please

Quoi?: (French)- What?

Mon Fils: (French)- My Son

Frohe Weihnachten: (German)- Merry Christmas

Joyeux Noël: (French)- Merry Christmas

Merci: (French) Thank you

Krankenhaus: (German)- Hospital

Je suis désolé: (French)- I am sorry

Other Notes

I hadn't written anything in Arthur's view since chapter 7, I actually missed writing him! I am really beginning to like writing Ludwig, so I promise you'll see him again. I also promise that you will see Antonio, Lovino and Feliciano! I originally had a scene or two with Matthew's therapist, Toris (Lithuania), although future scenes are up in the air, he will probably remain as an honorable mention. I had the story planned up to detail in my head up to this point, so the next chapters will be coming slower as I try to figure out the order of some parts correctly and add/delete other from my mind. Don't worry, I fully intend to finish this story.

Once again, I have been getting emails about followers and being favorited, thank you! **Please leave reviews! **


	10. Chapter 10

…

_January_

…

Francis tried to put on the best smile he could, but honestly, things were becoming stressful. He had to start getting his house ready for Arthur and Alfred, and the work was making him a bit irritable. Lain was also helping him, which meant that he had an extra hand, but the Scotsman did have a short fuse, and was hard to work with, which made Francis even more irritable.

But, it was Arthur that stressed him out the most. Although stronger everyday, the Brit's emotions were all over the place. Happy, calm, composed, angry, sad, confused… It was almost like he was at war with himself, and Francis prayed that it wasn't brain damage and Arthur was just having trouble coping.

But, Francis could deal with stress, he had been through worse, and he could get through this. So, he visited Arthur everyday, just like he had done for over three years.

He stepped into the hospital room and shut the door quietly. He immediately went to walk over to the bed until he realized that it was empty. Confused, he scanned the room and saw Arthur looking out the window in a wheelchair. Francis smiled at the sight, knowing that this was a milestone.

He forcibly dropped his smile when Arthur turned his chair around to face him, "Afternoon, Love."

Francis scowled, "Oh, great, you're mobile now."

"Yep," Arthur gave an evil look, "Can't run from me now."

Francis wanted to tease more, but he couldn't hold his smile back for long. He walked over, grabbed the small bedside chair on his way by, and sat himself in front of his Englishman. Arthur wore a big grin and his emerald eyes were bright and full with life. Francis sighed contently, "Well, you look happy."

"Happy to be out of the bed." Arthur let out a frustrated breath, "I just wish I could get out of here. I feel so cooped up."

Francis chuckled, "Just a few more weeks, _Mon_ _Cher_, then you'll be out of here."

"A few more weeks?" Arthur rubbed his eyes under his glasses, "I think I'll go insane by then."

"Oh, c'mon, Arthur," Francis said in a reassuring tone that quickly turned into teasing, "We all know that you're already insane."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Right, I forgot."

There was a long silence while Francis pondered about what to say next, when he thought of an idea, "Let's play Questions. You go first!"

Arthur seemed thrown, but went along with it, "Oh, okay…" He glanced away and hummed in thought before looking back at Francis, "What is one thing that happened that you're glad I wasn't there for?"

The question surprised Francis, and it took him awhile to find his answer, but when he did, he let out a loud chuckle, "Well, there was this one time where I slipped on some ice and I almost knocked myself out."

Arthur returned the chuckle, "Oh, that would have be hilarious. You're turn."

Francis took a pause, but he didn't have to think much, "Do you remember anything else from your coma?"

"No," Arthur responded quickly, his grin falling, "Why do you ask?"

Francis shrugged, "I just found it interesting." He looked up as he thought of a different question, one that didn't revolve around the coma, as he was pretty sick of the topic. "If you could take me anywhere in the world, where would you take me?" He finally asked.

Although Arthur rolled his eyes, his smile returned, "What a sappy question."

Francis pointed at his partner playfully, "You still have to answer it."

"Well," Arthur started in thought, "Probably London, if you haven't been there already."

"I took a train _through_ London, so technically, I did."

Arthur looked off, as if visualizing something, "I could take you to the London Eye, and the Towers, and Buckingham Palace-" Arthur suddenly cut himself off and looked at Francis in excitement, "Oh! We could go to-to-oh, God, I can't remember the name of it, but it's this really great history museum! I've never been there, but there isn't one bad review!"

Francis smiled, even through all of this, his Blacksheep still loved history, "Maybe we can go on holiday there sometime."

Arthur nodded eagerly, "What about me? Where would you take me?"

"France." Francis said, without missing a beat.

Arthur's expression of excitement turned to fear, "No, I can't go across the channel."

Francis tilted his head, "Why not?"

"Well...I...Um…" Arthur suddenly looked embarrassed, "I can't swim."

"Well, after you get your strength back-" Francis started.

Arthur interrupted, "No, I mean… I've never been able to."

Francis laughed harder than he probably should have, "But you live on an island nation!"

Arthur's lowed his head, the expression of embarrassment deepening, "I know."

Francis started to feel bad for laughing, so he forced himself to calm down, "Oh, _Mon_ _Chéri_," He said affectionately, "We could just take the chunnel."

"But, what if the ceiling caves in?" Arthur asked, looking more fearful than before.

"I promise you it won't," Francis reassured, "But afterwards, we can walk the streets of Paris!"

"Well, that does sound pleasant," Arthur confessed, but then suddenly scowled, "But if the ceiling does give out, then I'm blaming you!"

Francis threw his hands up in surrender, "Alright, then you can kick my ass while we're in the afterlife."

"Agreed. Then I'll just-" Arthur cut himself off with a horrified gasp as he looked at his left hand.

"What? What's wrong?"

Arthur looked up to him with tears in his eyes, "Where is my wedding ring?"

Francis immediately deflated in relief for worst-case-scenarios had been playing in his head, "Since you lost so much weight, we were afraid that it might fall off and get lost, so Lain has it somewhere safe."

Arthur sounded heartbroken, "But I need it, i-it's my wedding ring."

Francis nodded, "I know, but you are still so much underweight, maybe you should wait until it fits better."

Arthur said nothing, but continued to stare at his own, boney hand.

Francis understood. The only reason he took his off is so people wouldn't ask him questions while going through the process of adopting Matthew. But, Arthur was so loyal to Kate, and it made his heart sink a bit. What if Arthur can't get past this barrier and their relationship never works out?

"You know what?" Arthur said abruptly, "I don't need it anymore."

Francis looked at the Englishman quizzically, "Really?"

Arthur shrugged, "Well, I've been awake since November, and I just now noticed that it was missing… And I get the feeling that it's beginning to bother you."

Francis shook his head, "No, don't worry about me. It's not my ring."

Arthur smiled, "It's okay, Francis. I don't think I'll ever get rid of it, but I'm ready to keep it off."

"Whatever you're comfortable with." Francis added.

Arthur looked as if he was going to say something, but Francis' phone went off, indicating that Francis had to leave. Francis sighed, took out his phone and shut off the alarm on it, "I have to pick up Matthew from school."

Arthur nodded in understanding before smiling again, "So I guess that this game ended in a tie?"

"Oui," Francis said as he stood, "We'll pick it up tomorrow." He bended down and gave Arthur a quick kiss, "_Au_ _revoir_."

"Goodbye."

Francis straightened his posture and went to walk out the door when he heard Arthur call out to him, "Francis?"

Francis turned, his hand still on the doorknob, "_Oui, Mon Cher?_"

Arthur looked desperate, "I know that sometimes I seem attached to Kate, but… I love you… So much."

Francis smiled at the sweet words, but he took the chance to tease, "I know, it's impossible not to love me!"

Arthur scowled, "I try to say something nice and-"

Francis cut him off, "I know you love me, _Mon Cher_, and you know I understand your grief. I love you, too."

When Arthur smiled in a reply, Francis gave him a wink as he stepped out the door.

…

…

It was the little things that made Arthur feel better.

At first, Arthur could only hear voices… At the time, the words went over his head without his brain processing them, but if he thought hard now, he could remember what they said. It was always nice things like, "Hello", "Merry Christmas", and "I love you", but, in time, they grew sad and exhausted. "Hello" became "Hey, it's me again", and "I love you" became "I miss you". Eventually, the voices begged him, "_Wake up, Arthur_"... "_Please, Daddy I miss you_"... "_Come back, I don't know how much longer I can take this_."

Arthur wasn't sure what woke him, but he did finally feel himself come out of a heavy sleep and into a strange, hazy doze. He couldn't remember if he saw or heard anything when he first entered consciousness. The only thing he could recall was how heavy his eyelids felt, and how hard it was to keep them open. Time seemed to go on forever as he tried and failed to stay awake.

The first full memory he had was short. People were above and around him, but he didn't know who they were, and he couldn't understand their words. Time passed as he slept, and the memory seemed to repeat itself everytime he woke, but with different people. Each one of them spoke to him, and although he didn't comprehend what they said, their voices were always kind and gentle.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually, he could understand what they were saying. Arthur didn't know why, but he liked listening to them, and quickly realized that every time they left, they would come back and tell him more stories. He didn't know who these people were, but they were nice and didn't seem to mind that Arthur couldn't say anything back. He liked their visits, and would feel joy whenever one would walk in, and become sad when they left. Looking back, Arthur realized that was the first time he felt emotion.

People came and went, and Arthur began to memorize his visitors. One man came very frequently. He wore a white coat and had brown hair.

"_I'm Doctor Ralph._" He would always say with a bright smile. Doctor Ralph repeated this every time, and because of the repetition, Arthur could actually remember his name.

There was another man with long hair that visited very often. His smile was bright, and his voice was smooth and soothing. The sweet man would always run his fingers through Arthur's hair as he held his hand, which often lulled Arthur to sleep. After a while, Arthur felt like there was something familiar about the man, but he couldn't figure it out.

The first person he recognized was his older brother. The man with bright red hair and wild green eyes had visited many times and told him stories, but one time, the man greeted him and Arthur finally made the connection.

Lain was always good at reading people, and must have seen the recognition in Arthur's eyes. Arthur could remember his brother smiling. It was crooked, hopeful, and mischievous, but it suited him. While pondering the memory, Arthur felt like his brother should smile more.

"_You know who I am don't ya, Artie?_" Lain had said.

Arthur couldn't give a straight answer, but he did manage to curl his lips in an attempt to replicate the Scot's smile.

"_Daddy! Daddy! Do you know who I am?_"

_Daddy?_ Arthur could never recall anyone ever calling him that, but he looked over instinctively at the name. On his other side was Alfred, his son.

"_Yeah, he does,_" Lain said in excitement, "_You can see it in his eyes."_

Arthur's concept of time got better, and it was, what he would guess a few days later. Alfred wasn't doing well, and was in the middle of a breakdown. Furious tears rolled down the young boy's cheeks as he tried unsuccessfully to cope with everything that was happening. Lain had tried to calm him, but, although very protective, Lain was never good at comforting.

It broke Arthur's heart to see his son in so much distress, he had to do something. Finally, Arthur opened his mouth and choked out, "_Alfred_."

Alfred looked from his uncle to Arthur in surprise before running up to the bed, grabbing Arthur's hand in both of his, and crying into the mattress. Arthur, for his part, could barely move, but he did manage to rub his thumb across his son's knuckles.

It didn't take long for him to become self-conscious of his own speech. It was hard to talk, but Arthur tried his best to enunciate, and he thought hard about his responses, hoping that they would come out as something close to a sentence. In time, this job got easier and easier.

He liked this stage of recovery. He was better everyday, and the people around him were so happy, and so was he. But, then, he started making more connections.

_Lain is my older brother who lives in Scotland. He is very nice now, but every recent memory of him is sour. Alfred is also always with Lain, but Alfred lives in England with me. But, if Lain lives in Scotland, and Alfred lives in England, then why are they always together? And if I live with Alfred, why does he leave? More importantly, why does Alfred look so much older?_

It didn't take Arthur long to realize that he wasn't home, and that he was in the hospital. But he couldn't remember why. He was suddenly aware how hard it was to move. He panicked and began to cry. All his memories were scattered, and he couldn't make sense of his surroundings.

The bad news turned everything around. In the end, three years of his life were gone, he was legally blind and wheelchair bound. His mind didn't think the same, and wouldn't make the same connections as it once did, leaving him forgetful, self-critical, and impulsive. At times, he didn't even feel like himself anymore.

And, to top it all off, he took a reflex test, which he basically flunked.

It was the little things that made Arthur feel worse.

…

…

Everything was set up. All of Arthur's things were moved into Francis' house and now they had to wait until Arthur was ready to leave the hospital, which was only a week or so away. Arthur felt like he should be excited and counting down the days like a little boy looking forward to his birthday, but he wasn't. Sure, he felt cooped-up, but his life inside the hospital was complicated enough. He was scared and depressed, and since that life-shattering night when he hit his head too hard on his steering wheel, the fight to keep his composure was difficult.

Arthur sat in his wheelchair at the window, his head down with silent tears rolling down his cheeks and falling onto his sweatpants. He desperately tried to gather himself, but he couldn't, so he prayed that no one would come into his room. Unfortunately, the door opened.

Arthur hoped that it was Doctor Ralph, that would be less embarrassing, but much to his dismay, a voice hinted with a Scottish accent proved him wrong.

"Oi, just thought I'd stop by before heading home. Alfie is all moved in with Francis, he was very excited."

Arthur picked up his head, but did not turn to look at his brother. Eventually, Lain made his way over to him and let out a sigh when he saw the tears. Arthur heard the Scot pace over and drag a chair over to him.

"What's wrong?" Lain said as he sat down and held out the tissue box.

Arthur only put his head in his head and began to cry softly.

Lain didn't do anything at first, which wasn't surprising since he was terrible at comforting. After a few moments, he leaned forward and rubbed Arthur's shoulder gently, "Arthur," He said awkwardly, "Take a few deep breaths, I can't help until I know what's wrong."

Arthur tried his best to follow the orders, but even though he was able to reduce his crying, his breath stilled quivered, "I don't feel well."

Lain seemed thrown off, "What? You feel sick?"

Arthur shook his head, "No. I just… Don't feel like myself."

Lain nodded and paused in thought, "You know, you don't seem as different as you might feel."

"That doesn't matter," Arthur sighed, trying to even his breath, "It's just…"

"I ran into Lukas last week."

Arthur knew that Lain couldn't comfort, but he didn't think he would just give up. So, he simply looked at his brother as if he had gone insane.

"And I asked him about the small changes that I had noticed…"

Arthur nodded in understanding, realizing the reason why Lain had brought it up.

Lain continued, "And he said that they seem mild, and may be reversed with some help."

"Help?" Arthur echoed.

Lain smiled sarcastically, "Yes, Artie, help. You know, what normal people seek when they have problems?"

Arthur glared at his brother. What a hypocrite, Lain was more prideful than Arthur was, and had probably never asked for help in his adult life. As much as Arthur would love to point that out, he decided to stay on the subject, "I meant, what type of help, twat."

Lain hesitated seemingly to decide whether or not to ignore the insult, "I mean from a therapist or counselor."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Sure, he was confused, but it wasn't like he was mentally unstable. "No." He said irritably.

Lain closed his eyes briefly, "Arthur, could you just let go of your pride enough to consider this?"

"Why?" Arthur snapped.

"Because Doctor Ralph and your physical therapist can only do so much," Lain explained, "A counselor can help you cope and get around some of the mental barriers you're having trouble with."

Arthur looked off in thought. It made a lot of sense, and frankly, he wasn't even sure why he was so prideful about it. Thousands of people go to therapists for help, in fact, in this day and age, it wasn't uncommon to meet someone who did. So, why was it so embarrassing? He never knew why, but he always hated receiving help, it was something that all his brothers shared with him.

"Arthur." He looked back to his brother as the Scot continued, apparently he had been quiet for too long, "It broke me to see you in a bed for three years. I'd hate to see you turn down a chance of recovery like this."

Arthur nodded, "I'll think about it."

Lain raised his eyebrows, "Promise?"

"I promise." He said with a reassuring smile.

Lain smiled back and stood, "Alright, I have to head home before it gets too late."

"Okay. When will you be back?"

Lain glanced at the ceiling in thought, "Tomorrow? Maybe? I don't know. I'll tell Francis tomorrow, he sees you everyday anyway."

"Okay." Arthur sighed.

"You want me to help you into bed before I leave?"

"Um," Arthur glanced at the clock and looked back to his brother, "No, Doctor Ralph will be here soon to check on me anyway."

"Alright," Lain patted Arthur's shoulder affectionately, "I'll see you on Tuesday at the latest."

Arthur smiled lightly, "Goodbye. Drive safe."

Lain walked past him and to the door, "Bye. I will."

Arthur was left alone to ponder over the advice he was given, only for his mind to space out into nothing.

…

…

…

…

Translations:

Mon Chéri: (French)- Honey

(I think that's the only one I have, if I missed one, tell me.)

Other Notes:

Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I had to cut it off here for the story to flow better. I also feel like this was a weaker chapter. Probably because I sick of writing hospital scenes. No worries, Arthur will be out of the hospital in the next one, so I promise the next chapter will be better!

Spoiler Alert: Gilbert is going to be in the next chapter. (It will be awesome)

Also, sorry for not updating, life happened, but I'm back now. Updates will be slower than they used to be due to college.

I want to thank you for the reviews, and more than that, I have gotten offers for help and I really appreciate your willingness to help! However, I will respectfully decline. I know that I have grammar errors here and there, but I enjoy going back and correcting myself and improving. Thanks again so much for your offers!


	11. Chapter 11

…

_February_

…

Within the few years he had known Alfred, Francis had quickly learned that he was a talkative, curious boy, but, within the few weeks that he had been taking care of Alfred, he learned that he was _way_ more talkative than he originally thought. And, as expected, Alfred talked idly the whole way to the hospital. For the most part, he was talking to Matthew. The two of them had been inseparable since Alfred had moved in, which was extremely cute.

As cute as it was, it was also more difficult. Francis expected it to be, but taking care of another child was more frustrating than he had thought. Although well behaved, the boys distracted each other… A lot. So, now it took three times as long to get things done, and he swore that the two frustrated him on purpose… But that was parenthood, and Arthur will be home to help manage them. He may be in a wheelchair, but he could still tell the boys to brush their teeth.

Francis pulled up into the hospital parking lot and turned off the car with a sigh, "Alright, you two head in, I'll be there in a moment."

"Okie dokie," Alfred cheered, "Mattie! Let's race!"

"Okay!"

"_Non!_" Francis whirled around in his seat, "No racing in the parking lot! Neither of you are getting hit by a car today!"

Alfred smiled, "Aww, okay, but can I get hit by a car tomorrow?"

Francis didn't really know how to respond to that. He glanced Matthew who just gave Alfred a strange look before shrugging.

Alfred's smile grew bigger, "I'm kidding, Francis. We'll be careful."

"And no running in the hospital either!" Francis ordered.

Matthew responded quietly as he stepped out of the car, "We won't."

The boys got out of the car and made their way to the hospital entrance. Francis sat in the car in silence for a moment, the cold from the February winter already seeping into the car. With a sigh, he looked at the gray sky, "Alright, I know I don't talk to you often," He started, "And you have bigger problems, but… Can I… just never come back to this hospital?" He paused with a small chuckle, "Now, I'm not saying that I don't want the help from a hospital, just if something was to happen…" Francis shrugged, "I don't know, send a different ambulance. I think I have spent enough time at this particular hospital." Francis was silent for a long moment, not really sure how to end his strange prayer. Surly, '_Amen'_ wasn't the way to go, so he just decided on, "Thank you." With one last sigh, he got out of the car and walked into the hospital.

When Francis walked in, Arthur was already in his wheelchair talking with Alfred and Matthew. Alfred was chatting along endlessly with Matthew commenting here and there, and the Brit had a huge grin on his face, just as always when the boys were visiting him. Francis smiled lightly at the sight. He loved them so dearly, and for the first time in his life, he actually felt like he had a family. "Nevermind what I said in the car," He whispered, "Just thank you."

"Oh, morning, Francis." Arthur practically cheered.

Francis stepped into the room, "Good morning, _Mon Cher_, you look happy."

"Happy to be getting out of here," Arthur said as he rolled his eyes, "I was about to go insane."

"We have been over this, Arthur, you're already insane." Francis reminded him.

Arthur glanced away as if he was trying to remember something, "Right, I forgot."

"This one time, I forgot to put underwear on!" Alfred suddenly chimed.

There was a long moment of silence until Matthew unexpectedly spoke, "I worry about you sometimes."

Francis and Arthur laughed at that, "Where did you get that level of sass?" Arthur questioned, "Lain?"

"I'm sorry!"

Arthur waved his hand dismissively, "No, it fine, sass and sarcasm is my first language."

Francis narrowed his eyes at his partner, "I knew it."

Arthur shrugged, "Well, it was pretty obvious."

"And I thought that it was pretty obvious that you're a-" Francis cut himself off and bit his lip, trying to think of an effective insult that was PG rated.

"I'm a what?" Arthur said in a challenging tone.

Francis crossed his arms, "Use your imagination!"

Arthur's teasing expression faded a bit, "Yes, thank you for not cursing in front of _our_ children."

"You're welcome! I hope that your imagination-" Francis stopped his sentence short after he realized what Arthur had said, "Wait, what did you just say?"

Arthur narrowed his eyebrows in a fake expression of irritation, "I said, thank you for not cursing in front of the children."

"_Our_ children." Matthew corrected.

Francis stared at Arthur, not really sure what Arthur had meant. '_Our children' as in my child and his child, or 'Our children' as in _Our _children?_

"Is everything okay?" Arthur asked.

_I'm overthinking this,_ Francis finally concluded.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kirkland?"

Francis looked behind him to see Arthur's nurse.

"Are you ready to go?" She continued.

"More than." Arthur said in an exhausted tone.

The thought of Arthur coming home brought a smile back to Francis' face, "I'll go get the car and pull it up front."

"Can we stay with Dad?" Alfred asked.

Francis thought for a moment, "You promise to be good?"

"Yep! I promise!" Alfred said as Matthew nodded.

Francis gave the boys a fake suspicious look, "Alright, I'll see you guys down there."

Francis walked back through the hallways for the last time and headed into the parking lot. He got into his car, and drove up to the '_Pick up'_ area and waited so he could help Arthur into the car.

He looked through the glass door and smiled when he could make out their silhouettes at the front desk. As they turned away and headed to the door, Francis looked back up at the gray sky.

"Thank you."

…

…

Arthur didn't get much of it, but while getting in the car, he could actually breathe in the fresh air. It was sharp and cold, and it had stung his lungs, but it felt nice. He hadn't noticed how much he had missed it in his three-and-a-half year stay at the hospital, and he got to take it in one more time when he got out of the car and was wheeled into Francis' house… Strangely, he wanted to stay out in the cold just to watch the snow fall.

But, reluctantly, Arthur let Francis push him up the ramp and into the house, which was great on a whole new level. It was nice to be in a building that wasn't all white, and didn't smell like it had just been deep-cleaned with chemicals. Francis' house had a soft, cozy feeling to it, and had a floral-like scent. It was all just like Arthur had remembered, except some of the furniture had been rearranged.

"_Bienvenue à la maison!_" Francis cheered as they walked into the house.

The nice feeling that Arthur had went out the window when the French words reached him, "I don't know what that means." Arthur said in irritation.

Francis walked around, kneeled in front of him and took his hands as he leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Welcome home."

Arthur couldn't help but smile lightly, "Thanks."

"Yeah, I had no idea what it meant either," Alfred chimed, "But Francis said to me too when I moved here."

"Did he?" Arthur questioned, "And how much French has he taught you exactly?"

Francis made a fake, shocked expression, "You say that like it's a bad thing!"

Arthur gave his partner a unamused look, "It is a bad thing."

"And why would that be?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "The language sounds like gibberish! It's almost impossible to pronounce!"

"I can pronounce it!" Alfred said, bouncing on his heels, "See? Ben-view an la mansion!"

"_Bienvenue à la maison._" Matthew corrected quietly.

Alfred turned to Matthew, "That's what I said!"

"I'm sorry, but you said-"

Alfred interrupted him as he suddenly turned to Arthur, "Oh! you _have_ to see our room!"

Francis stood up and motioned back behind Arthur, "Maybe later, Alfie."

"What?" Alfred whined, "Why?"

Arthur wondered how Francis could make his voice so authoritative, yet so light hearted at the same time, "Well, is it clean?" When Alfred and Matthew shared a guilty glance, Francis nodded, "Arthur can see your room once it is clean."

Arthur's smile faltered, he wasn't used to Francis telling Alfred what to do, and he wasn't really sure weather he liked it or not. But, Francis was an adult in this house, hell it was _his_ house, so Arthur would have to get used to it, not to mention that Arthur would probably be telling Matthew what to do time to time. Besides, Francis was a very gentle and sweet man, it wasn't like he was extremely strict.

"Everything alright?"

Francis' voice snapped Arthur out of his thoughts. The boys were gone, and his wheelchair was beginning to move again. Arthur blinked quickly to help himself out of the trance, "Yes, I'm fine."

Francis grunted overdramatically, "You're so much harder to wheel on the carpet!"

Arthur felt a small pang of guilt, "Sorry."

Francis chuckled, "No apologies, I get enough of them from Matthew."

Arthur said nothing as he looked around the house. His heart sank. This wasn't _his_ house. His house had a bigger doorway with a large, nicely decorated living room that had a coffee table in the middle of it. It had a stairway on the left that lead to their bedrooms. In his house, Alfred didn't need to share a room, he had his own. Kate had been too scared that the smell of the paint would be bad for her and Alfred while she was pregnant, so Arthur had painted and decorated the whole room by himself. It was light blue with fabric cut-outs of clouds and airplanes on the walls… The only reason he wasn't in _his_ house was because of the car crash.

"Are you listening?"

That's when Arthur realized that he was at the kitchen table. He took in a sharp breath and looked up at Francis, "What was that you said?"

"I said," Francis began, "Your stomach is still a little _iffy_, right? How about chicken soup for dinner?"

"Sounds fine." Arthur said, letting his voice sound empty.

Francis sat down at the table, "Alright, what's wrong?"

Arthur looked at Francis as he considered trying to convince Francis that nothing was wrong, which was nearly impossible. He really didn't want to talk about it, but Francis gets so worried that he would pry to the point of Arthur giving in and telling him anyway. So there really was no use in trying to get out of the conversation. But what exactly was the problem? What he was currently feeling was homesickness, which would fade in time. What he felt most of the time was his coping problem with all the changes in his life since his awareness level raised enough for him to start asking questions.

Arthur sighed, "...Can I ask you something?"

Francis gave a blank expression, "Non."

Arthur frowned, he really wasn't in the mood for this, "Francis, I-"

Francis smiled lightly, "I'm teasing, Arthur. What is it?"

Arthur paused, collecting his thoughts, "Do I seem… _Different_ now than I was before the coma?"

"Uh," Francis hesitated as his eyes widened slightly, almost as if he were mentally panicking over the question he was given. Then, his eyebrows narrowed in thought before he gave a fake smile, "A little."

Arthur could feel himself deflate, "You're sugar-coating it."

"No," Francis said quickly, "No, Arthur, I'm not. You are different, but the differences aren't that drastic."

Arthur nodded, "That's what Lain told me."

"See?" Francis said, patting Arthur's hand, "You have nothing to worry about."

The way Francis finished his sentence told Arthur that he was trying to end the conversation, but Arthur had to grab his attention again, "Francis?"

"Hmm?"

Arthur took a deep breath, "The changes may seem small to you, but they are bigger to me. I mean, I'm more forgetful now, and that isn't a huge problem to you, but in my head," He sighed in exasperation, "... I don't know, I… My mind thinks differently now, and I'm having trouble coping with it."

Francis took a long pause until he nodded in understanding, "I can definitely see how that can be frustrating, but I think it's matter of getting used to it."

"Lain thinks that I should see a therapist."

Francis chuckled, "And, what you came to me for a second opinion?"

"Well," Arthur glanced away for a moment, "Yes."

Francis laughed, "This is why I'm more attracted to men I swear!"

"...What?"

"You see?" Francis giggled, "If a woman asked me this, there would be no right answer. If I told her 'no' she would think that I didn't care about her mental health. On the other hand, if I said 'yes' she would think that I thought she was crazy!" His laughter winded down, "But, you're a man, and I can answer honestly without panicking."

Francis was right, women were very confusing, but that _way_ off topic, "Francis."

"I know, I know." Francis said, leaning back in his chair, "Let me think."

Arthur rested his chin on his hand as he waited for an answer, which didn't take long, "You know," Francis started, "I think we should wait on that."

Arthur narrowed his eyebrows, "But if I need help, shouldn't I get it now?"

Francis nodded, "That's a good point, but think about it. You've been in the hospital for over three years. I visited you everyday, but only for a hour at the most. Lain and Alfred tried to visit you as often as possible, but they lived in Scotland, so it was hard, and Doctor Ralph and his nurses checked on you, but in short sessions."

Arthur tilted his head, "So?"

"So," Francis said as he sat up in his chair, "You were alone most of the time, your day was pretty uneventful, especially when they weren't giving you tests, and when you weren't resting, you were most likely thinking, and possibly _over _thinking." He smiled gently, "I think that being out in real life, talking to more people, and not being so cooped up will help you tremendously."

"But I-"

Francis interrupted him, "Let's just wait a few weeks. Get adjusted, become a part of the household, be around your son everyday, eat food that isn't tasteless, and we'll see."

Arthur thought about it, it did make a lot of sense. Why get help if he didn't really need it? Arthur nodded, "Alright, but what if I'm not better?"

"Then, I'll talk to Toris," Francis said in a firm, yet reassuring tone, "He's Matthew's therapist."

"But, he's a child therapist." Arthur pointed out.

"He is a really good one, and I trust him," Francis started, "He may not be able to help you, but maybe he could point us in the right direction. We have to be careful about these kinds of things, there can be some real bull-shitters that just want money."

"Good point."

"Now, Arthur," Francis said, his tone growing serious as he reached out and held his hand, "If you start having thoughts of…" He closed his eyes briefly as if the next words hurt him, "Self-harm, or… _Worse_… We get you help immediately."

Arthur felt his eyes widen slightly, he didn't expect Francis to bring that up, "W-well, of course!"

Francis closed his eyes again seemingly to gain courage before opening them again, "You… Have you had any thoughts like that recently?"

"No." Arthur replied quickly, trying to end Francis' concern as fast as possible, "No, I haven't."

Francis nodded, "Good. Anything else?"

Arthur thought for a moment, "No… Anything on your mind?"

Francis stood and started over to the stove, "Nah I- _Mon Dieu!_ I almost forgot!" To Arthur's surprise, the Frenchman suddenly dashed out of the room without another word. It was only a few moments later when he came back. His hands were now hiding something behind his back and he had a huge smile on his face, "I have a 'welcome home' gift!"

Arthur smiled, "What? Really? What is it?"

"Close your eyes!"

With a sigh, Arthur did what he was told.

Francis spoke quickly in excitement, his accent becoming thicker, "Well, remember when we played Questions the other day and I asked you what your favorite book was and you said '_Flying Rabbits'?_"

"Yes."

Francis set something down on the table, "Open."

Arthur opened his eyes and looked in front of him. There laid a book with the title: _Flying Rabbits Part: II_. He picked up the book and began to flip through it, "There was a sequel?"

"Yep!" Francis answered, "It came out last year."

Arthur's smile dropped a bit. Just one more thing that he hadn't been here for. But, it was a sweet and thoughtful gift, and he would hate to make Francis feel bad, so Arthur looked back up at his Frenchman as he lifted his grin, "Thank you, this is very nice."

"Of course it's nice!" Francis boasted, "I am the perfect boyfriend, after all."

Arthur faked a scowl, "Francis, I can think of a hundred other men that are better than you."

Francis made a sad face, "You're so mean." He whined.

"Get used to it." Arthur replied, "Because I've only been here for twenty minutes."

Francis stared at him expressionlessly for a long time before he finally spoke calmly, "That's it. I can't take it anymore. I'm poisoning your soup."

Arthur rolled his eyes and opened his book to the first page, "Sure. Whatever. Just make dinner, you bloody Frog."

With a huff of fake anger, Francis walked back into the kitchen…

…

_The Next Morning_

…

Every couple has their fights, but usually it isn't so trivial. The argument started right around bedtime when Francis decided that Arthur would take his bed, which Arthur wasn't going to let happen. The Frenchman had let Arthur intrude, and Francis deserved to sleep in his own bed, goddammit! It wasn't even an argument, it was more them trying to convince each other about their idea of the sleeping arrangement with stupid, made up excuses. After twenty minutes, Arthur told Francis that getting on and off the couch would be hard, but getting in and out of a bed would be harder. It was completely true, and after about one hundred '_Are you sure's'_, Francis finally sighed in defeat.

Arthur was sure that the couch would be more comfortable than the hard hospital mattress, but he didn't really get the chance to think about it. Moving out of the hospital, and actually being a person was more exhausting than Arthur imagined. He fell asleep almost immediately and slept through the night without a problem. It was a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep that Arthur eventually woke up from to the sound of voices:

"But, Francis, I-"

"Shh. Be quiet, we don't want to wake your father."

"I'm sorry."

"But, Mattie, you didn't even say anything!"

"_Shh! Alfred!_"

Arthur tried to ignore them, but wondering what time it was, he took a deep inhale and stretched his arms, "What's going on?"

Francis' head poked over the back of the couch, "Sorry, _Mon Cher,_ we didn't mean to wake you."

Arthur waved his hand dismissively, "Quite alright," he paused to yawn, "What time is it?"

"Nine." Francis answered, "Why don't you go back to sleep for another hour? I'll make you breakfast after I'm done shoveling the driveway."

Arthur propped himself up on one elbow, which was the closest thing to sitting up that he could do by himself, "No, I already overslept."

"Overslept?" Francis narrowed his eyes, "Damn, I forgot that you're a morning person."

"Better than being a night owl." Arthur retorted.

Francis smiled and got back on the subject, "Go back to sleep, you need it, I doubt you slept well on the couch anyway."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Any sleep without a nurse waking me every hour on the hour is a good sleep."

"Alright," Francis sighed, "What do want to do? Watch the morning news? Read your book? You can borrow my laptop if you promise not to mess with the templates."

"I can make you tea!" Alfred practically shouted as he ran to Arthur's side, "Uncle Lain taught me how!"

Arthur smiled, "Well, at least your Uncle isn't completely useless," He teased, "I would love some."

"Do you want me to get my laptop or-"

"Actually," Arthur interrupted, "I want to be outside with you. I think some fresh air would be good for me."

Francis hesitated with a frown, "I don't know, Arthur, it's really cold outside, and you're still very underweight," He chuckled, "It's not like you have a lot of body fat to protect you."

Arthur shrugged, "So? Give me a coat and a blanket or two. I just want to sit on the porch with my book."

Francis looked away in thought for a moment, "Alright."

The Frenchman walked over to the other side of the room and rolled the wheelchair from its corner, putting the brakes on once he positioned it next to the couch. Then he walked back into the hallway and came back with a heavy coat and a few blankets. He draped the items over the arm of the couch and walked to Arthur's side.

"Ready?" Francis said with a smile.

After Arthur nodded, Francis held out one hand and slipped the other behind his back . Arthur took the offered hand in both of his and braced his arms, as much as he could, and Francis pulled Arthur into a sitting position. With a sigh, Arthur carefully and slowly moved his legs off the side of the couch, and Francis helped him turn so he was sitting on his cushion properly. The process of moving from one thing to the next was exhausting for Arthur's weak body, but he was getting used to it, just as he was getting used to the constant soreness of physical therapy.

Francis walked over by the front door and to the coat rack, and grabbed a pale blue scarf that hung there. Looking at Francis as he walked back, Arthur felt a bit of guilt. Doctors helping him was one thing, but now Francis was helping him.

_Maybe I should have just gone back to sleep,_ Arthur thought, _It probably would have been easier for him._

"I'm sorry about all this trouble." Arthur said, feeling like a burden.

Francis smiled as he tied the scarf around Arthur's neck, "What did I say about apologising?"

"You get enough of them from Matthew." Arthur repeated.

Matthew was across the room on the recliner humming to himself. He suddenly stopped and sat up in the chair, "I'm sorry, I was daydreaming, I didn't hear you."

Arthur shook his head, "Nothing, lad. Good morning."

"Morning." Matthew said quietly before returning to his humming.

Francis reached over to the arm of the couch, grabbed the coat and slid it behind Arthur, who stuck his arms in the sleeves and began buttoning it up. "Are you hungry?" Francis asked.

Arthur shook his head, "No, just the tea should be fine for now."

"Okay then," Francis glanced at the chair then back to Arthur, "Ready?"

Knowing how hard it is to get in and out of the wheelchair, Arthur took a collective sigh as if it would somehow give him more strength, "Yeah. I'm ready."

Suddenly, Francis gave a mischievous smile, "You sure?"

"What are you-" Arthur cut himself off when Francis quickly bended down and lifted him into a bridal carry, "Bloody hell!"

"What?" Francis said in a taunting voice, "Did I scare you?"

With a scowl, Arthur wrapped his arms around the Frenchman's neck, "No! I don't get scared!"

Francis' smile grew, "Is that so?"

Arthur lowered his voice so Matthew couldn't hear him, "Don't you fucking dare."

Francis was completely still for a moment, until he suddenly loosened his hold, and Arthur began to fall. His stomach flipped, his chest went hollow, and he made a quiet shriek in fear of hitting the floor. Then, a split second later, Francis' arms tightened around his body again, catching him.

"Not scared, huh?" Francis laughed.

"Why, you son of a-" Arthur slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from cursing.

Francis only laughed harder and lowered Artur into the chair. He got the blankets and laid them on Arthur's lap, tucking the sides into his hips, "Okay, if you get too cold, tell me, and I'll get you another blanket, or I can help you inside."

Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Yes, Mum."

"I don't like your attitude!" Francis teased as he began pushing him to the front door.

Arthur made sure to lace his voice with even more sarcasm, "Sorry, Mum."

Francis chuckled as he reached over Arthur and pushed the door open, "I hate you."

"I hate you too."

"You're so mean!"

"You said it first!"

"I got your tea, Daddy," Alfred interrupted, "I almost spilled it, but I didn't."

Arthur smiled up at his son, "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred looked as if he were about to reply, but Matthew suddenly dashed from inside the house and made a beeline to the yard full of snow, laughing quietly in excitement.

Alfred yelled after him, "Mattie! Wait up!"

"Comfy?" Francis asked.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat for a moment as his lungs adjusted to the cold air around him, "Yes, the fresh air is nice. Thank you."

Francis set the book next to Arthur's tea on the side table, "Alright, if you need anything, holler to me."

Arthur nodded and glanced over to the driveway to see Ludwig standing there and shoveling it. Cocking an eyebrow Arthur looked back at Francis, "What's Ludwig doing?"

"Huh?" Francis looked back, "_Non!_" He exclaimed, running down the ramp, "Ludwig! What are you doing?"

"_Was?_" Ludwig answered, "I'm not allowed to help?"

"_Non_, you are not! You've already helped us enough! You built a ramp, for Christ's sakes!"

"It's no trouble, really."

Arthur rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the playful bantering. He took a long sip of his warm tea and opened his book, immediately getting lost in the story. It wasn't long until a voice broke his concentration:

"_Ludwig, warum hast du nicht wecken Sie mich, damit ich helfen könnte?_"

Arthur looked up from his book to see another man walk across the lawn towards the driveway. Remembering that Ludwig had an older brother, Arthur shrugged, reached for his tea, and tried to go back to his reading. However, he couldn't concentrate with Ludwig and his brother bickering in German, a language that Arthur didn't know a word of.

"_Weil Sie über den ganzen Tag beschwert haben._" Ludwig answered in a irritated voice.

"_Was? Ich beklage mich nicht!_"

"_Was auch immer._"

In step with the brother was Ludwig's dog, Berlin, who basically ran full speed when she saw Francis. The Frenchman dropped his shovel and began to praise her, although, Arthur couldn't really make his words out. Not a few seconds later, the boys came running from behind the house, Matthew in the lead, headed straight for the older germanic brother.

"Gilbert!" Matthew yelled.

"Hey, Birdie!" Gilbert shouted back as he bent down and picked up the little boy.

The German's movements were fast, and although Matthew was much better now than he was three and a half years ago, Arthur was surprised of how much Matthew seemed to like the energy and physical affection, responding by hugging Gilbert with a huge smile. The eight-year-old began to talk, too quiet for Arthur to hear. Gilbert kept his eye contact and commented loudly while he brushed off the show in Matthew's hair.

In the midst of his talking, Matthew pointed at him. Arthur looked down at his book, pretending that he wasn't paying attention when Gilbert looked over. Moments later, Arthur heard footsteps on the porch, and when he looked up, he saw Gilbert. He was a strange looking man. He had the palest skin that Arthur had ever seen, grey-white hair, and bright red eyes. When he spoke, Arthur immediately noticed how his accent was significantly lighter than Ludwig's, "So, you're the Arthur that Francis won't stop talking about?" The albino laughed lightly, which was more like a chuckling-hiss.

Arthur wasn't really sure how to answer that question, but after a short silence, he finally decided on: "Well, I hope so."

Gilbert laughed again, "I hope so too," He held out his hand, "I'm Gilbert, Ludwig's awesome older brother."

"_Möchten Sie stoppen die Einführung selbst so?_" Ludwig shouted from the driveway.

Arthur glanced at the younger German then back to Gilbert, "So I've heard." Arthur said, shaking his hand.

Gilbert's crimson eyes widened, "Oh, god, what did you hear?" He said quickly, "You didn't hear about the time I got drunk did you?"

Arthur smirked, "Which time?"

"_Gott verdammt!_"

"I'm just kidding." Arthur reassured, "I've heard little things here and there, but nothing much."

Gilbert laughed his strange laugh again, "Oh, good, because there are some stories that can be a bit embarrassing."

Arthur lifted his eyebrows, "Like what?"

Gilbert hesitated, as if debating whether or not he should tell his story, "Alright, Artie, I'll tell you. But, but only because it embarrasess your boyfriend too."

"Don't call me-"

The German interrupted, "One time, I woke up in a McDonald's parking lot in a blue dress."

Giggling, Arthur put a hand up to his mouth, "And what of Francis?"

Smiling, Gilbert continued, "Right next to me in nothing but a mini-skirt and cat ears."

It was strange to think of Francis like that, but at the same time hilarious. Arthur laughed harder than he should have, turning to his Frenchman in the driveway, "Francis!" He called, "Why didn't you tell me about the time you woke up in the McDonald's parking lot?"

Francis made a shocked face before glaring at the albino, "Gilbert! _Evadez-vous de lui!_"

Gilbert lifted his hands in surrender, "Alright, I'm done telling stories!" He looked back to Arthur, "He can be so sensitive sometimes."

Arthur's laughter winded down as he took his cup of tea, and finished the last of it, "Well, he's French, what did you expect?" He said, setting down the cup.

"Good point, he-" Gilbert cut himself off when a snowball flew over the porch railing and hit him in the arm. Slowly, he turned and smiled, "Okay, which one of you two did that?" Arthur could only hear Alfred and Matthew giggle in reply.

"So, that's how it's gonna be?" Gilbert continued, "I'll find out one way or another, so may as well own up to it!" The last part of the sentence was a playful shout as Gilbert suddenly jumped over the railing and chased the boys, Berlin following them as she barked.

Smiling to himself, Arthur returned to his reading. The fresh air, talking to people, seeing Francis and the boys more often… _Maybe Francis was right, perhaps all I needed was to get out of the hospital and out into the real world._

…

…

…

…

Translations:

Bienvenue à la maison!: (French)- Welcome home!

Was?: (German)- What?

Ludwig, warum hast du nicht wecken Sie mich, damit ich helfen könnte?: (German)- Ludwig, why didn't you wake me, so I could help?

Weil Sie über den ganzen Tag beschwert haben: (German)- Because you would have complained about it the whole day.

Was? Ich beklage mich nicht!: (German)- What? I don't complain!

Was auch immer: (German)- Whatever

Möchten Sie stoppen die Einführung selbst so?: (German)- Would you stop introducing yourself like that?

Gott verdammt!: (German)- Godammit!

Evadez-vous de lui!: (French)- Get away from him!

Other Notes:

_Flying Rabbits_ is a made up title, if it is somehow real, I do not own it. Sorry for not updating in a while, these chapters are a lot longer than in _Through the Years_ and _Parallel History_ so they take longer to write.

Gilbert will be seen again. I know he's a fun character to write, so I can't wait! He will pop up here and there just as Ludwig does.

Also, I've been waiting to use the term "Chuckling-hiss" to describe Gil's laughter since I started writing the story.


	12. Chapter 12

…

_March_

…

"_I'm tired," Alfred complained, but before anyone could respond, the boy gasped, "Antonio! How do you say 'I'm tired' in Spanish?"_

_Antonio chuckled, "_Estoy cansado_."_

"Estoy can-say-do…" _Alfred mispronounced._

_Francis looked in the rearview mirror, but since it was angled for Arthur, he could only see Matthew. The quiet boy had barely said a word to his uncle directly, but whenever Antonio wasn't looking, Matthew would stare at him in awe. He did the same to Ludwig sometimes too, especially whenever he spoke about Germany. Francis always thought that it was because he was interested in other cultures, but was too scared to ask about it. But, Matthew was growing. They all were. Matthew spoke more since he had started spending time with Alfred, and Alfred was so much happier now with Matthew._

_Then there was Arthur, who was currently rubbing his thumb over Francis' knuckles. Arthur was happier now than he was in the beginning of the relationship, Francis could tell. Francis could read people easily, and Arthur may has well be an open book. The Brit faked composure, but his eyes always showed the emotions he was actually feeling, and lately, Francis had seen less and less sadness in his partner's eyes._

_There was a peaceful silence as Arthur drove over a hill. Francis leaned his head on his headrest and squeezed Arthur's hand affectionately as he closed his eyes. It was strange to think how hopeless he had been just over two years ago, because now, with this new start, he felt like he had everything._

_Francis sighed contently, everything was perfect._

_Suddenly, Arthur made a loud, panicked gasp. Alarmed, Francis opened his eyes and looked over just in time to see a bright light and Arthur's body wrench as the sound of screeching metal and breaking glass reached his ears, then, nothing._

_Crying was the first thing that Francis heard when he came to. He picked up his head from his chest and looked around. The world moved slowly, and his head was so fuzzy that it felt like he had been asleep for ages. Everything around him was broken and shattered, but Francis didn't understand why. That's when he felt something trickling down the left side of his face. He reached up and touched his cheek, and when he pulled away, he saw blood. _

_Then his brain registered the crying, it sounded like Matthew. Where did he last see Matthew? He just saw him… The rearview mirror. Francis looked up to it. The mirror was angled differently than it had been before, and allowed Francis to see the whole backseat. Antonio was holding both the boys close, speaking soft words in… Spanish? Maybe? Matthew's face was buried into his uncle's shirt as he cried and cradled one arm in the other. Alfred was motionless and had a gash on his forehead by his hairline and his eyes were closed as if he were asleep. Francis looked to his right. There, he saw Arthur, who was hunched over the steering wheel. His breaths were nothing but short and shallow gasps, and blood drained slowly from his ears._

_Francis looked back to the cracked windshield. He didn't understand. Everything was so strange. Nothing made sense. It was all too fuzzy and blurry to understand, like a weird dream, and it was fading… Quickly…_

_The sound of crunching metal scared Francis awake. He turned to his left to see a man in a firefighter's uniform. The man said something, but Francis didn't understand his words._

"Que se passe-t-il?" _Francis asked._

_The man said something else, but Francis' world faded from him again…_

_Francis hadn't been gone for long, because the feeling of being moved woke him again. Now, he was laying down with someone above him. Lights were flashing everywhere and people were running all over the place. He was so confused, and he tried to blink the fogginess out of his head, but it didn't work._

"Que se passe-t-il?" _Francis repeated._

"_What's your name?" The man above him responded._

"_My… Name?"_

_The man nodded, "Yes, can you tell me your name?"_

"_...Francis."_

_Suddenly, Francis felt himself get lifted into an… Ambulance? Everything that happened confused him more and more. "What's happening?" He asked._

"_You were in an automobile accident," The man answered, "But, don't worry, Francis, you're going to be just fine. Who is your emergency contact?"_

"_Antonio." Francis said, but then he remembered how far his brother was in Spain. Since his move to England, it had changed, "No… Ludwig. My friend Ludwig." He corrected, slurring every word he said._

"_You friend, Ludwig," The man repeated, "Okay, what is his phone number?"_

_Francis went to answer, but the siren above him blared-_

Francis started awake and stared at his ceiling in a cold sweat. He took a few deep breaths to loosen the tightness in his chest and got up and out of bed. He wasn't going back to sleep.

…

…

"AHH!"

_Thud_

The screaming started Arthur awake. His body reflexed to sit up, but only managed to get half way before his head slammed back down onto the couch arm. He rubbed the sore spot on his head with one hand and turned on the lamp with the other. For a moment, he was blinded, but after his eyes adjusted and putting on his glasses, he could make out Francis getting off the floor.

"Bloody hell, are you alright?" Arthur said, propping himself on his elbows.

Francis stood up straight, "_Oui,_ sorry to wake you, _Cher,_ I tripped on the coffee table."

Arthur rubbed his eyes under his glasses with one hand, "You okay?"

Francis nodded, "Yes, I'm fine, you can go back to sleep."

Arthur glanced at the clock, it read 2:45 in the morning. "What are you doing up?" He asked with a yawn.

Francis waved his hand dismissively, "Oh, nothing. Just can't sleep."

Arthur didn't sense a lie in his partner's words, but he did know that there was missing information in them. "Why?"

Francis shrugged, "I don't know, maybe I drank too much coffee today."

"Oh, _please,"_ Arthur said with a roll of his eyes, "I have seen you drink an entire pot of coffee, and fall asleep in the recliner before."

"Hey, I said '_maybe'_, didn't I?"

The tone in the Frenchman's voice said that there was something bothering him, which worried Arthur, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. He looked at Francis evenly, still expecting answer.

Francis narrowed his eyebrows, "_Quoi?_ Why are you looking at me like that?"

Arthur yawned again, "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing!" Francis denied, a little too quickly. When Arthur did nothing but stare at him, he sighed in exasperation, "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No."

"Fine," Francis groaned, "I had a dream about the car crash."

Arthur swallowed hardly, "The crash?"

"_Oui,_ you know, the one three years ago?" Francis clarified.

"Oh," Arthur said, taking a thick sarcastic tone, "Well, I'm bloody glad that you said that! It thought you meant the one yesterday!"

"Whatever," Francis said angrily, turning to leave, "You know what's wrong, now you can go back to sleep."

"Francis, wait-"

"_Bonne nuit,_ Arthur."

"_Francis."_ The tone in his voice stopped the Frenchman in his tracks. Almost afraid of the answer to his question, Arthur paused, "You… Remember the crash?"

Francis sighed in defeat, turned around, walked over, and sat down on the floor next to the couch, "Wish I didn't."

Arthur felt his eyes widen, "What happened?"

Francis closed his eyes briefly, "Do I _have_ to talk about this?"

"Francis, this is the car crash that nearly killed me a put me in a coma. This is important." Arthur explained.

Francis shrugged, "Well, to be truthful, I don't remember a whole lot…" He looked off in thought, "We were driving down the road. Alfred and Antonio were talking… I saw headlights… Then…" His serious expression changed to confusion, "Then, everything was broken… _You_ were broken…" Francis trailed off.

For some reason, Arthur was expecting more than that, he drew his eyebrows together, "Is that it?"

Francis shook his head, "No, there was so much more, but those aren't the parts that really bother me."

"What is?"

"The part that bothers me," Francis began, "Is that there were so many alarming things, so many red flags. Your breathing was erratic, Alfred wouldn't wake, Matthew was crying… But, I had hit my head so hard, I didn't understand any of it. I was so numb to it. I felt no emotion at all…"

"Francis, that doesn't mean that you don't care." Arthur comforted, thinking that he was feeling guilty.

Francis nodded, "No, no, I know that. It's just… It's just really spooky to me, that's all."

"Oh." There was a long silence before Arthur spoke up again, "I didn't think you remembered the crash."

"Uhh," Francis paused in thought, "I didn't for a long time. Months, actually. But, one day while visiting you, I was looking back over that night, and… I guess I realized that I could remember a little bit of it."

Arthur suddenly felt guilty. It was his fault, really. Why didn't he see that car coming? If he had, he could have swerved, or slammed on his breaks. If only he were paying attention, none of this would have happened… Arthur could feel the strong static as his mind began to drift off into nothing...

"Are you okay?" Francis voice snapped Arthur back to reality. He nodded weakly as he raised his hand and began tracing the small scars on the left side of Francis' face and neck. Francis smiled sadly, "I'll take that as a '_no_'."

Nither of them said anything after that. Francis let Arthur feel the scars, even let him dip the collar of his shirt down so he could he see the ones on his shoulder and collarbone. Eventually, Francis yawned and laid his head on Arthur's stomach.

They both fell asleep.

…

…

"Are you sure you can do this?"

Arthur adjusted the towel around his neck as he looked back at the Frenchman standing behind him wielding a pair of scissors. Francis only smiled reassuringly, "Of course, Cher. If I can cut your hair while you're in a coma, I can do it now." Francis put his hands on the side of Arthur's head and made him face forward, "Especially since you are not in said coma, it will be much easier."

After a moment, Arthur could hear the snipping sound of the scissors, and it made Arthur nervous. Francis had never mentioned knowing how to cut hair before. Then again, his memory wasn't the best, and there was a good chance that Francis had told him. Despite that, however, Arthur asked, "When did you learn how to cut hair?"

"Uh," Arthur heard some shifting, and when he glanced over, he saw Francis take a picture off of the kitchen wall. He handed it to Arthur and continued, "You see the man with the dark hair?"

The picture looked like a family photo. In the back-middle was a tall, strong man with dark curly hair. In front of him where four children, two of which were obviously Francis and Antonio, the other two, twins. The five of them were all smiling happily. Arthur looked back to the man and almost nodded, but stopped himself, "Yes."

"That is my grandfather, he owned a barber shop."

"You've already told me this, haven't you?"

Francis hummed in thought, "No, I don't think so…" He trailed off for a moment before picking up his story, "Anyway, I worked there for some time before he passed away. After that, I was a cook, and then-" Francis broke off for a moment, "... Well, you know how I ended up here."

Arthur nodded in understanding, "I-"

"_Mon dieu!_ Don't move!" Francis scolded, "I almost stabbed you!"

"Oh, how tragic that would be." Arthur replied in a sarcastic tone, "Don't say it like you care, I know you hate me."

Francis sighed in false remorse, "You know, it's hard not to when you such an asshole."

Arthur rolled his eyes before looking at the photo and getting back on the subject, "Wow, Antonio looks so much like your grandfather."

"Yep," Francis chuckled, "He looks more and more like _Papy _every day!"

Arthur was about to ask about the twins when Francis phone rang. "Hello?" Arthur heard behind him. _Lovino and Feliciano,_ Arthur remembered, _That's what their names are._

"Oh, hello Mr. Braginsky!" Francis said cheerfully as he continued to snip at Arthur's hair.

"Mr. Braginsky?" Arthur echoed as he turned his head to face the Frenchman, who had a phone between his shoulder and ear."

"_Ne bougez pas!"_ Francis practically hissed.

Arthur had no idea what Francis said, but he turned back forward and went back to examining the picture as his partner talked into the phone. He tuned out most of the conversation, but Francis voice suddenly became concerned, "Really?"

"Is everything alright?" Arthur said, a bit too loudly.

Francis flicked him in the ear, "Uh-huh. I'll be sure you talk to him about it…" Francis paused has Arthur heard a voice mumble on the other side of the phone, "... Thank you… Yes, and you have a good day as well… Bye-bye."

Arthur heard Francis put the phone down on the counter. "Who was that?" He questioned.

"Matthew's school teacher," Francis said, his voice sounding stressed, "It seems that Matthew has been failing his reading assignments."

"Does he know why?"

Francis moved in front of him, his eyes focused on Arthur's bangs as he cut them, "Probably. While the class was reading today, he saw Matthew holding the book really far away from his face."

"Oh." Arthur said in understanding, "That makes sense."

Francis sighed, "I _really_ don't want to talk to him about this."

Arthur shrugged, "Why not? I don't think he'll make a big fuss about it."

Francis shook his head, "No, no it's not that. It's just…" He sighed again, "He'll think it's his fault, and that he had somehow let me down, I'll get over a dozen 'I'm sorries' and…" He snipped the last of Arthur's bags and gave him the hand-mirror, "You know, he was very young when he was abused, he doesn't really remember it, consciously… But he is still extremely fearful, and it makes me so sad."

Arthur didn't look into the hand mirror, he kept his eyes of Francis as he spoke, "Francis, you are a very gentle person. I'm sure Matthew will be fine."

Francis shrugged helplessly, "It's irrational fear, Arthur. He doesn't even know why he is fearful because he barely remembers it, which makes it frustrating for him, and…" Francis covered his face and let out a heavy sigh, "... I'm going to go talk to him…" Then, he left Arthur in the kitchen.

Arthur sat there alone for a moment until he realized that Francis had basically stranded him there. His wheelchair was on the other side of the kitchen and his book was in the living room.

"Bollocks."

…

…

Things were different, everything was. Before Arthur and Alfred had moved in, Papa had asked Matthew if it was all okay with him. It was strange for an adult to be asking for his permission, but Papa said that it was only fair that he did since so much would be changing. Papa had also said that it might not be permanent, because some things don't work out.

Matthew had been excited, but nervous at the same time. On one hand, Alfred, his best friend, would br living with him. On the other, so would Arthur, who he didn't know well. To Matthew's relief, Arthur was very kind to him, even if the two were a bit awkward sometimes. Maybe it was because Arthur didn't feel like himself sometimes. Matthew had overheard that in one of Papa's conversations with Arthur, but didn't really know what is meant. He didn't dare ask though, the two adult where alone, and perhaps he wasn't supposed to hear it…

Overall, it was working out. Papa and Arthur seemed very happy together, and Matthew was maore than hppy to spend most of his time with Alfred. In some ways, he was very different from his friend, like how Alfred was loud and talkitive, while Matthew was quiet. But they liked a lot of the same things. They both _loved_ icecream, mac 'n cheese, and animals, and although they were usually talking about these things or playing, sometimes they both did their own thing and enjoyed each other's company.

Just like now. Matthew sat on the floor, humming and petting Berlin, while Alfred watched his cartoon on Ludwig's tellie. The two didn't really talk much, just little comments here and there.

Berlin's ears suddenly perked up and she lifted her head, staring at the door. When the door started to open, the dog barked loud enough for Matthew to pull his hand away.

"Shh! Berlin!" Gilbert scolded as he stepped in. Berlin immediately ran over to him, got up on her hind legs, and put her front paws on the albino's chest. Gilbert let out an "Oof" as he chuckled, "Hi, girl!" He praised, petting her, "I don't think you're supposed to be jumping up on people. Not that _Bruder_ would scold you, he spoils you rotten, doesn't he?"

Gilbert was a strange man, but Matthew liked him a lot. When he had first met him, Papa said that he told Gilbert 'not to be too rough' because of the man's loud personality, and Gilbert promised he would, but didn't keep to it. From the start, Gilbert talked loudly, patted his shoulder, ruffled his hair, and picked him up. It was scary at first, it made him want to cry, but he dare to, back then, Matthew's memories of his father were fresh, and he used to get hit for crying. Surpisingly, Matthew got used to it quickly. By the third time they met, Matthew didn't even flinch through any of it. He talked as much as Alfred does, and wanted Gilbert to pick him up.

Matthew learned a very important lesson through Gilbert: Some loud people are, mean, and want to hurt you, but most loud people, like Gilbert, want to praise you.

And since that lesson, trusting people had been so much easier.

Someday, he'll swollow his shyness and tell Gilbert how thankful he is.

"Hey boys." Gilbert said, cutting into Matthew's thoughts, "Whatcha doin' here?"

Before Alfred could answer Matthew got up and jogged over to him, "Papa and Arthur are on a date."

"Are they, now?" Gilbert said, taking a sudden step foward, pick up Matthew, and throwing him over his shoulder.

Matthew let out a squeal as he grabbed the back of Gilbert's coat. He trusted Gilbert not to drop him, but he latched on through reflex. Gilbert walked foward into the living room, "Alfred, have seen Mattew? I can't find him!"

"He's behind you!" He heard Alfred giggle.

Gilbert spun around quickly, making Matthew shreik and laugh, "No he isn't!"

"Yes I am!" Matthew said loudly.

Gilbert turned again, making Matthew's world spin, "Where are you, Birdie?"

"I'm over your shoulder!"

There was a short pause, "Huh, it seems that you are. How did you ever get there?"

Matthew giggled, "You put me here!"

"What?" Gilbert yelled in surpise, "I whould never!"

All the blood to Matthew's head was beginning to give him a headache, but he laughed again anyway, "Well, you did! Put me down!"

"If you say so."

Gilbert loosened ant tighted in grip on Matthew's legs just enough for Matthew to fall a little, making him let out another shreik, "Don't drop me!"

"Drop you? Alright then."

Gilbert yould never drop him, but Matthew yelled out in panic anyway, "No! I said _don't _drop me!"

"Oh," Gilbert siad in understanding, "That makes more sense." Gilbert walked over to the couch and flung Matthew onto it, making him scream and laugh. Matthew picked up hi head and looked at Alfred, who seemed very amused.

"Well, boys," Gilbert began, walking back over to the coat rack, "How are you?"

"Good." They both said simultaneously.

"That's good."

After hanging up his coat, Gilbert came back over and sat on the couch with them. They watched cartoons and laughed at the jokes that the characters made until a commercial came on. Then, Alfred went right to talking, "Hey Gil?"

"_Ja?"_

"Can two guys get married?"

Gilbert seemed puzzled at first, but he answered, "Yes, they can, why?"

Alfred tilted his head, "Do you think that Daddy and Francis will ever marry?"

Gilbert chuckled a bit, "Maybe some day. And if that happens, you two would be brothers."

Matthew smiled. Strangely, he liked the sound of that.

…

…

…

Translations:

Estoy cansado: (Spanish)- I'm tired

Que se passe-t-il?: (French)- What is happening?

Bonne nuit: (French)- Good night

Papy: (French)- Grandad

Ne bougez pas!: (French)- Don't move!

Other notes:

Blood draining from the ears: Usually, a sign of a bad ear infection, but in cases of someone hitting their head, it is a sign of a severe concussion or brain damage.

Hey, guys, sorry it has been so long, but I had a mild case of writer's block. There isn't a lot in this chapter for Francis and Arthur, but there's a lot for Matthew's character devleopment and Gilbert's character overall. Now you know why Matthew seemed so attachted to Gilbert in the previous chapter.

Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers!


	13. Chapter 13

_..._

_Late April_

…

It had been a long time since Arthur had dreaded the years he had been gone, but every now and then, something would remind him of the three years that he had missed. Like his birthday.

Arthur never really made a big deal about his birthday, he never knew why. He usually didn't mind being the center of attention, after all, he was a teacher, his entire career depended on people staring at him and listening to his words. But, he was never very big on affection, which was all a brithday is, people hugging you, kissing you, and giving you things. It wasn't like he hated birthdays, he just wishes that people wouldn't make a big deal about it.

But this year, it was a big deal.

Arthur could see it all in their eyes. To Francis and Matthew, it was the first birthday that Arthur had when he wasn't in the coma. To Alfred, he could finally celebrate is father's birthday again. To Lain, he would see his brother and give him a present for the first time since he moved out of their parents house… It felt strange to know that if it weren't for the coma, Arthur would have gotten a less than half-hearted birthday card in the mail from him.

Arthur still didn't want to make a big deal out of it because, well, he wasn't that happy about his birthday. It took a while, perhaps a week before the date when he finally realized it. Sure, he'd known that he had been in a coma for three years, but before the bloody car crash, he was only twenty-six. It had never occured to him that he was twenty-nine, which meant he was turning thrity.

He wansn't sad about it, but… Cheated, he felt cheated. He knew life goes by fast, that's what everyone says. One day, your feeding Alfred a bottle of formula, the next he's gruaduating highschool. One day, you look in the mirror, and your a punk teenager, the next, your figuing out how to wash your hands and keep a hold of your walker at the same time. Life goes by fast, and Arthur had to admit to himself, it didn't feel like thirty years, especially since he missed three of them.

It wasn't fair. Sure, he wasn't the best person that the planet had to offer, but he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve those thee years trapped in his own mind, away from the world. What made it even more frustating, was that he was atheist. The biggest downside of being an atheist was you couldn't blame God, or The Stars, or Destiny, or Allah, or Zeus, or whatever outside force that was currently supposed to be controlling the universe. You only had yourself to blame, only you to be angry at… Which was hard if you are convinced that you're not in the wrong.

Arthur didn't know if Francis was aware of his intrnal struggle of who to be angry at, but if he was, he never brought it up. He just teased him.

"_Someone isn't happy about aging!" _Francis would say, "_Careful, or you'll find youself in a mid-life crisis! You'll buy a new car, and start getting horrible tatoos!"_ Arthur would just argue back, the fake arguments were always lighthearted and entertaining, always took some of the pain away.

Kate used to tell him that he worries too much, and he does, always had, always will, even if he wouldn't admit it. All that overthinking and internal struggle made him paranoid. Because, his birthday was here, and everything was going fine. He didn't feel overly different, there was no emotional breakdown, or angst, just him hating himself for getting all worked up over nothing, which happened often.

Arthur rubbed his eyes under his glasses with a soft yawn, _I can't wait until I turn forty-nine, I'll spend the whole bloody year worring about turning fifty…_

"It's time for presents!" Francis said from the living room.

With a sigh, Arthur finished the last of his tea and set the cup in the sink, "Presents?" Arthur responded, turning on his wheels and slowly pushing himslef through the kitchen, "I thought I said not to get me anything!"

"Well, we did anyway."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he stopped in the dining room for a moment to rest, "Why?"

"Because we love you!"

Arthur began to wheel himself into the living room, "Does that include Lain?"

"Of course not," Lain scoffed, "I hated you since you were born and you know it."

"What did I ever do to you?" Arthur asked in a exasperated tone as he rounded the coffee table and turned around to face his brother.

"You stole my mummy." Lain said with a crooked grin.

"Me and Mattie first!" Alfred shouted, "I'll go and get it!" With that, he ran off, and Arthur wondered if Alfred would ever get through the phase of running everywhere he went.

Arthur twisted his face in a expression of confusion at that last thought.

"What's wrong?" Francis said, tilting his head slightly.

Arthur shook his head, "Nothing, just a sense of Déjà vu."

"Oh, we couldn't really wrap it, so you have to close your eyes." Matthew said timidly.

Arthur closed his eyes and waited, soon enough, Alfred came running back, talking quickly, "So Mattie and I's grades go to the same art class since becuase there are a lot of kids, but not a lot of teachers, and we got to pick partners for one of our projects, so we made you this!"

"Wow." Arthur heard Lain whisper, which peeked Arthur's interest.

"...You can open your eyes." Matthew informed him after a short pause.

Arthur did what he was told and what he saw was very… Blurred. Arthur waved at the two boys, "I am legally blind, you'll have to come closer."

"Sorry." The both said at the same time, stepping closer.

What he saw then, was sweet. It was a large watercolor painting of a lit-up Big Ben tower under a clear night sky. With a smile on his face, Arthur reached out and took the painting from the boys and set it in his lap. The painting was very well done, especially for two boys under eleven years of age. Arthur ran the tips of his finger over the painting, "This is so great, I didn't know you two were such good artists."

"_Oui,_" Francis started, "Why didn't you guys tell us?"

Matthew gave a shy smile, "We're not that good, our teacher let us use a ruler for the straight lines and we looked at a picture that we got off Google the whole time."

"That may be true, but it takes talent to take a small picture and make it that much bigger, like you guys did." Francis said as he got closer to see the painting.

"Wow, you guys are so good!" Lain said, walking over to see it too.

Alfred began another part of the story, "Yeah, when your birthday was coming up, Mattie said that we should paint something for you, but we couldn't figure out what, then I remebered that you were born in London. We almost did the Bloody Tower, since you like ghost stories."

Arthur leaned forward and hug them, "Thank you boys, I love it. I'll have Francis frame and hang it up in the house." After the three broke away, Arthur took the artwork off of his lap and gently set it aginst the wall.

"Oi."

Arthur only hummed in reply as he tunred back to his brother.

"Here." he said simply, tossing a rectagular box wrapped in blue paper.

Lain had that mischievous smile across his face, the same smile he had whenever he tormented him in their childhood. Arthur gave his brother a suspicious glare before ripping the paper.

He was _not _amused.

Arthur looked back to his brother, "An embroidery kit."

Lain began to chuckle, "What? Not happy?"

"Not really." Arthur didn't know why it bothered him, but it did.

That only made the Scot laugh harder, and he _swore_ he heard Francis snort into his hand.

"What's embroidery?" Alfred chimed in.

"I think it's like sewing or knitting." Matthew responded.

"That's girly."

"How?" Francis said, turning to Alfred, "Everyone should know how to sew, it's just pratical."

"I'm never going to sew!" Alfred retorted.

Francis clicked his tongue, "Well that''s a lot of money wasted on trashed clothes that could easily be fixed."

"C'mon," Lain said, calming his laughter, "Why don't you like it?" Before Arthur could answer, his brother cleared his throat, "In all seriousness, though, you told me that your phyisical therapist said that you need to work on your fine motor skills, I thought that would help."

Slightly saddned, Arthur softened his scowl and looked back down to the box in his hands. Perhaps if he hadn't his his head on the steering wheel too hard, he would have made that connection. But, at the same time, it was touching. The Scot wasn't affectionate, but every now and then, Lain would do or say something subtle that reminded Arthur that he was there, wether it was a question, an offer of help, or advice.

Arthur gave his brother a small smile, "Thank you, Lain. That's very thoughtful of you."

Lain waved him off, "Ah, I just happned to see on the shelf a day or so after the conversation," He shrugged, "Not a big deal."

Arthur chuckled, "Well, thank you anyway."

"My turn!" Francis exclaimed, handing Arthur a wrapped gift.

Arthur set the kit on the coffee table "Thank you." he said before ripping apart the paper. That's when he came to a white cardboard box. Arthur smiled, "Aww, I love boxes! Thank you, Francis."

"Aww, what a horrible joke," Francis responded, "Open it."

With a chuckle, Arthur lifted the lid of the box and discarded it onto the floor. Inside was another, smaller wooden box. Arthur took it out to get a better look at it. It was made of oak, nicely and properly polished, without a scratch on it. The sides were curved and the middle dipped down, giving it a beautiful, hand carved wave to it. It had a golden latch on the front and hinges on the back to match. When Arthur opened it up, a beautiful melody began to play. The inside was divided into two. On the right, was some little cubbies where some little belingings could go, perhaps a set of keys or coins. On the left was some clear plastic, showing the mechinism inside of the music box.

That's when he reconized the song, with wide eyes he looked up to Francis, "Is this 'Somewhere In France With You' by Al Bowlly?"

Francis tapped the music box with his index finger, "This, is an antique music box from the early 1940's," Francis began to explain, "Apparently, someone really liked the song and made a music box out of it." When Arthur did nothing but smile at his gift, Francis spoke again, "Do you like it _Mon Chou?"_

Arthur look up at him, "Of-bloody-course." He said, "'Somewhere In France With You' is my favorite wartime song from World War II." Arthur gently closed the box, leaned forward and kissed Francis on the cheek, "Thank you, you know how much of a history nerd I am."

Francis chuckled, "I know, I'm the best."

"How did you even find this?"

Francis shook his head, "Nope, I will never tell you that. That is my secret."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Alright, I'll let you have it."

"Can we have cake now?" Alfred asked.

"No," Arthur answered, "Because no one got me cake."

"Yes I did." Francis said, beaming a smile. Arthur gave him a blank stare. "_Quoi?"_

"I hate you."

Francis giggled and kissed the bridge of his nose, "I hate you too."

…

…

"_Take my bed, Cher, it's your birthday."_

Arthur had been reluctant to take Francis' bed from him, but didn't regret it in the morning, for he had slept very well. He was awake, but hadn't woke his eyes. With no plans on getting up soon, Arthur sighed in contentment and relaxed further into his pillows, still half-asleep.

He could feel himself come out of his light doze when he heard the door open and someone quietly walk across the room. There was some shifting next to him before he felt Francis' hand run through his hair.

"_Cher?"_ He heard Francis say in a smooth tone, "Arthur?"

Arthur only grunted in reply.

Francis chuckled softly, "It's time to get up."

Arthur made a nosie that sounded like a whine.

"I have one last present for you." Francis pratically sang.

Arthur cracked open his eyes, "What?"

"I have another presnt for you." Francis repeated.

"No, no," Arthur grunted, stretching and taking a deep inhale, "I heard you," He relxed again with a quick sigh, "I'm just surpised."

Francis tilted his head with a warm smile, a look of fondness in his eyes, "I think you're going to love it," He said, still running his fingers through Arthur's hair, "The boys and I are very excited about it, so you shoud get up."

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned in Francis' hand with a tired moan. He wasn't very big on giving or reciving a lot of affection, but someone running their fingers though his hair was his weakness, in fact it would lull him to sleep faster than anything else in the world. Before he knew it, he began to doze again, not that he protested against it.

There was a moment where he thought he had heard his name, but he couldn't be for sure, and although it was probably only a few moments, it felt like a long time until he heard Francis' gentle voice call him again, "Arthur."

"Hmm?"

"Arthur, look at me."

Arthur opened his eyes. His Frenchman was smiling lightly at him, almost in amusement. "What?"

"You need to get up, I already gave you five more minutes, so don't ask." Francis respoded, getting up from his knelt position on the floor and heading over to the corner of the room, towards Arthur's wheel chair.

After a deep inhale and a long sigh, he sat himself up into a lazy, slouched postiton and yawned, "What time is it?"

"Nine-Thirty." Francis said, bringing Arthur's chair over.

Arthur grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and rested them on his face, "Well, at least it isn't too late."

Francis chuckled, "Something tells me that you wouldn't be against sleeping another hour or so. I don't think I've ever seen you so reluctant to get up in the morning."

"Not my fault, your bed is too comfotable."

Francis rolled his eyes, "Oh, of course it's _my_ fault."

Arthur gave him a blank stare, "Everything is your fault."

Francis kissed him on the temple, "Whatever."

With some effort, Francis helped Arthur into his wheelchair. Once in, Arthur began to push himself across the room. He knew that Francis would probably be kind enough to push the chair for him, but moving around in his chair by himslef was relatively new to Arthur, something that he had just gotten the strength for, and if he could do something, there was no way that his pride was going to let someone do it for him. Besides, if he can do something, he should do it as much as possible, no matter how sore he was from physical therapy. The more practice he got, the faster he was out of the wheelchair.

"Morning, Dad!" Alfred nearly shouted as Arthur entered the room.

"Good morning, Alfred and Matthew, how are-" It was then when Arthur noticed that both boys were ready and dressed for the day, which was odd, considering it was saturday and the two best friends usually stayed in their pajamas as long as humanly possible on the weekends. "What are you two doing dressed?"

Alfred and Matthew exchanged a knowing look before Matthew answered, "We went somwhere with Papa."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at them, Francis did not mention going anywhere with them early in the morning… Or, perhaps Francis did say so and Arthur just didn't remember… Nonetheless, the boys were acting more than strange. "Really?" Arthur asked, "And where did you guys go?"

"Not telling!" Alfred said with a wide smile.

"Alright, Arthur," Francis said, entering the room with large carboard box, "You have one last present, Happy Birthday."

"I told you not to get me anything for my birhtday, and now I have an extra present?" Arthur scolded.

Francis only smiled, "Let me spoil you, I like doing it."

Arthur rolled his eyes and reached for the box.

"Careful," Francis said, firmly, "It's very fragile." When done speaking, Francis handed the box to him.

The last bit of seriousness in the Frenchman's voice made Arthur look at him strangly before taking the box. He set it in his lap, but before opening it, he felt a slight shift inside, almost as if something had moved by itself. Puzzled, Arthur opened the box cautiously.

What was inside surpised him, _a lot._

Inside the box, standing unsteadily on green tissue-paper, was a small kitten, probably just under a month old. It was mostly white, with it's ears, paws and tail painted black, along with some spotting on it's back. The little thing looked right up at him, it's blue eyes shining. It took a small step toward him with a "mew" before loosing it's footing on the paper and falling foward. Arthur felt himslef put a hand over his mouth, not sure if it was out of surpise or the fact that the kitten was actually pretty cute.

Then, reality set in.

Arthur narrowed his eyebrows, "Francis, why did you buy me a kitten?"

Francis hummed in thought, "For many reasons, actually, but, I thought that this little family of ours could use a pet."

_Family?_

Arthur looked up to Francis, searching his features for some sort of lie or joke, but there was none, the frog was just smiling at him. That wonderful, adorable smile… He looked from Francis to the boys. Truefully, it had been so long sice he had felt at home, so relaxed with the people around him… Perhaps, in a way, they were a family. A growing one, but still a family.

Another "mew" and shift in the box brought Arthur's attention back to the kitten, "_Oh,"_ Arthur affectioantly whispered to it, "_Poor thing,"_ He reached in side the box and picked it up with one hand before setting the box on the floor, "_Why did they put you in a box? Sounds a bit cruel to me."_

The kitten only mewed again in responce, looking at him. It walked up his lap and put it's front paws on his stomach, taking little sniffs in his direction. Arthur couldn't help but smile as he lifted his hand and began to pet it's head.

"So, what're we gonna name him?" Alfred interrupted, bouncing in his place on the loveseat.

"Him?" Arthur questioned.

"Well," Francis started, a bit awkwardly, "Before he was fixed, yes."

Alfred ignored them, "I want to name him 'Iggy'!"

Matthew gave Alfred a confused look, "Why 'Iggy'? I've never heard that before."

"It's fun to say!"

"You're so wierd."

"What!?" Alfred whined.

"How about 'Spot'?" Matthew offered.

Alfred rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure there's like _a million_ other cats named that!"

"Boys." Francis said in a warning tone, "Stop."

"Sorry." They both said at the same time.

Francis let out an exasperated sigh before smiling and bringing his attention to Arthur, "He actually already has a name."

Arthur glanced at him, "I'm sure the name you gave him is worse than 'Iggy'." He teased.

"I thought it was a good name…" Alfred grumbled, just loud enough for them to hear.

"Actually," Francis continued, in a 'matter-of-fact' tone, "_I_ didn't give him the name, the shelter did, and I thought that it was a pretty cool name for him."

Arthur tilted his head, "And what would that be?"

"Black Jack."

Arthur looked down to the kitten in his arms in thought. It did seem suitable for the little guy, and Arthur did like the name for him, in fact, it was almost perfect. Besides, even if he didn't like it, it wasn't like they could get another name for him. Arthur didn't have a lot of creativity for these kind of things, Francis would just give him a French name that Arthur couldn't pernounce, and the boys had _too_ much creativity, hence the name 'Iggy'.

To be truthful, they could probably work together to find a name that they all like, but luckily, they didn't need to.

"I like that name," Arthur said with a short nod, "I think we should keep it."

"Well, that's good," Francis said, pulling somthing round out of his pocket, "This way, we don't need to buy a new collar." The Frenchman reached from his place on the couch to put the collar around the little kitten.

Arthur looked at the round tag attached to the collar, on it was carved: _Black Jack_. Arthur looked back to Francis, "You already bought him a tag with his unoffical name on it?"

Francis shook his head, "No, no. The shelter gave it to me."

"C-can I hold him?"

Arthur turned to Matthew's shy expression with a nod before picking up little Black Jack and handing him off, "Careful, lad, he's still small."

Matthew gently took Black Jack in his hands and set him on his lap. Immediately, Alfred scooted closer and began to pet the kitten with his friend. After a moment, Matthew handed Black Jack over to Alfred, who held him in his arms. Black Jack looked at Alfred with big eyes and mewed at him, making both of the boys giggle.

Letting the boys adore the kitten, Arthur turned to Francis, "I don't know what to say, this… This is big."

Francis smiled warmly with a shrug, "You told me you were a cat person, although you never really owned one, and we had the money, and it's only going to get easier once you start working after this autum."

Arthur let out a breath of disbelief, after all, it was already spring, "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome, _Cher."_

"Papa, do you want to hold him?" Matthew said, walking over with their new family member in his arms.

"Sure." Francis reached out and brought Black Jack to his chest, "Aww, you're so cute!" He said in a sweet tone before kissing the kitten on the top of the head.

At that moment, Arthur knew exactly who would be spoiling their cat.

…

_Early May_

…

Francis sprayed furniture cleaner on the coffee table and wiped it off quickly and firmly, making sure that he used enough pressure to get all the dirt off.

"Francis, what the hell are you doing?" Arthur said in an exasperated tone, "You've already cleaned the coffee table."

"Well, I'm doing it again." He responded shortly, glancing back to see the Brit wiping the dust off a vase. Francis turned back to what he was doing.

Arthur sighed, "Why are you so nervous?"

Francis sprayed the table again, "I'm not nervous."

After some shifting behind him, Arthur made his way across the room, only to put his hand on Francis', stopping him from cleaning, "Francis."

Francis narrowed his eyebrows, "Will you let me work, please?"

"Francis."

Francis let out a breath of irritation, "_Quoi?"_

Arthur gave him a calm expression, "Stop. Why are you nervous?"

"But I'm not-"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Really? You're going to tell me that you're not? You look like you're going to explode."

Francis looked at Arthur for a long moment until finally sighing in defeat, "Feliciano and Lovino have never met you, and Antonio-"

Arthur interrupted him again, "Francis, I highly doubt that they will hate me becasue of a little dust on the coffee table."

Francis said nothing.

"Go get ready, they will be here soon." Arthur said in a reassuring tone.

"But, I am ready."

Arthur smiled, "You should put your hair up, you always look nice with your hair up."

It was a small compliment, but Arthur didn't compliment often, so it calmed Francis more than expected. After another moment of considering just going back to cleaning, Francis gave up, "Alight."

Before Francis could go back into the bathroom to get ready, the front door opened. Francis was just about to run over and swing his arms around whichever brother came through the doorway when he realized it was Ludwig. "Oh," Francis sighed, "Hello, Ludwig."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, "You sound excited to see me." The German said sarcastically.

"_Je suis désolé,_" Francis responded, rearranging some objects on the side table next to him, "I'm a little nervous."

Arthur began to wheel over, "So now you admit it?"

"Oh, that's right, your brothers are coming into town, aren't they?"

Francis nodded and continiued to fiddle with the side table, "Yes, all three of them, which I barely have enough space for them to stay."

Arthur smacked him on the shoulder, "Would you stop playing with the bloody table? It's fine how it is!"

"Umm," Ludwig began, somwhat awkwardly, "If you don't have enough space, I do have a guest room that one of them could sleep in."

_Oh, Feliciano would love that,_ Francis immeditally thought. He had to prevent himself from laughing, he had never told his friend of the crush that Feliciano had on him.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Ludwig said, snapping Francis out of his thoughts.

Francis shook his head, "Nothing, _mon ami_. Thank you for the offer, but I think we will be just fine."

"Well, if you change you mind, call me at work, or," The German shrugged, "Well, if I'm home, you know where I live."

"Actually, I don't, I have to use my GPS to get to your house." Francis said with a teasing smile.

"Your sarcasm is horrible." Arthur commented.

Francis looked down at him and nerrowed his eyebrows, "I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"It's in my job discription, read it more carefully next time."

"_Anyway,"_ Ludwig interruped, "I have to get to work, I'll see you two later."

"Oh, by the way," Francis said, catching his friend's shoulder before he turned to leave, "We are having a big dinner tonight, I was wondering if you and Gil would like to join?"

Ludwig glanced to the ceiling in thought, "Umm, sure. It's saturday, so I close earlier. We should be able to make it."

Arthur began to move towards the hallway, "Brilliant, we will see you then."

With a small smile, Lugwig nodded, "_Ja,_ see you tonight."

Francis waved as his friend exited through the front door. Once the German was gone, he looked at his watch, anxiety building up. They would be here any moment.

"Boys!" Arthur yelled down the hallway before turning to Francis, "Why don't you go put your hair in a nice ribbon?"

Francis rolled his eyes, "Yes, Mum."

Francis spent about five minutes tying and re-tying his hair into a blue ribbon until, finally, the doorbell rang.

"I got it!" Arthur said loudly from the other room.

Francis heard his boyfriend, but he didn't listen, and he probobly should have. He ran down the hallway, at full speed, ingoring how fast his chest tightened, tripped over Arthur's wheel chair, stubbled, and ran stright into the door.

"Bloody hell, Francis!" Arthur shouted.

Wheezing and rubbing the sore spot on his forehead, Francis opened the door to see Antonio on the other side. Antonio immediately smiled birghtly and pulled Francis into a hug, speaking in Spanish.

Francis hugged his brother back, "Antonio, I know I learned Spanish in highschool, but I don't remember any of it."

Antonio laughed as he pulled away, "Don't worry, you just missed normal greetings."

Francis continued to rub his forehead, "Wow, I am _really_ out of practice aren't I?"

"Well, you-" Antonio cut his sentence short as his eyes adjusted to something behind him. A fraction of a second later, he dropped his suitcase on Francis' foot and ran past him.

Francis hissed in mild pain as he pulled his foot out from under the luggage, "Curse his ADD!" He mumbled to himself as he turned around. When he did, he saw his brother knelt down with his arms around Arthur. Arthur hugged back, but seem surpised by the sudden affection.

"It is so good to see you." Antonio said quietly and sincerely, "I am so glad you are doing as well as you are."

Arthur chuckled, "I'm glad for that too, believe me. And it is good to see you too."

They seemed to be having a good moment with eachother, that is, until it was ruined.

"Antonio, would you not smother the poor man? Leave him alone!" Lovino said loudly as he walked in, Feliciano close behind.

"C'mon, Lovi, I'm pretty sure that he was just-"

Lovino spun around on his twin, "And that goes for you too when it comes to the nighbor, got it?"

Francis turned to them and put a arm around Lovino's shoulders, "Feliciano and Antonio are fine, stop worrying."

"This is coming from you?" Arthur chimed.

Before Francis could tease back, Feliciano wrapped him in a hug, "_Mi sei mancato!"_

"I don't speak Italian either."

At that point, Arthur decided to resopnd in full Italian, a look on his face that told Francis that he was showing off.

Francis narrowed his eyebrows, "I didn't know you could speak Italian."

Lovino pointed a thumb at Arthur, "I like this guy already."

Feliciano ran over and took Arthur's hand, shaking it quickly, "And you must be Arthur! I am so excited to meet you!"

"Yes," Arthur said, looking uncertain, "And judging by what Francis has told me about you two, you are Feliciano?"

Feliciano nodded, "Yep!"

Arthur shifted his eyes, "And you're Lovino?"

Lovino nodded.

"It's nice to meet you both."

"What about us?" Alfred said from his place in the living room.

"_Ciao!"_ Feliciano yelled as he ran over to Alfred and Matthew, hugging them. Lovino followed him, going right over and patting Matthew's shoulder.

Francis turned and closed the door, only to hear a "mew" by his feet. With a light smile, he bent down, picked up little Black Jack in his arms, and scratched under his chin.

"So, uh…" Feliciano started, sounding as if he were trying to stay casual, "How's Ludwig?"

Francis grinned at his brother, "He's doing good, Feli-"

"Well!" Arthur corrected, "Ludwig is doing _well."_

Francis gave an irritated glance at his Englishman before continuing, "You will be happy to hear that both he and Gilbert will be having dinner with us."

"Oh, god, not Gilbert!" Lovino groaned.

"Gilbert's coming?" Antonio said, perking up, "That's great! It'll be just like last time when we woke up in that McDonalds parking lot and-"

Francis interruped him as he felt his face heat up, "You and Gilbert need to stop bringing that up!"

"Wow, Francis," Arthur said in a taunting tone, "It's not every day that I see you flush like that."

Francis looked around to see eaveryone looking at him, and even Lovino was smiling in amusement. Francis felt himself blush deeper and he started towards the hallway, "I'm going to finish tying back my hair!"

…

_Dinner_

…

Francis sat back in his chair with a content sigh. His stomach was full of spaghetti and he already had a enough wine in him to make him tired. He wasn't close to going to bed though, family and friends sat at his dinner table talking and laughing, and Francis was having too much of a good time to sleep.

"So, Arthur," Lovino began, perhaps a tad drunk himself, "When people ask how you two met, do you tell them he hit you with a car?"

Ludwig pulled his beer bottle away from his lips as he nerrowed his eyebrows in confuson, "What? He hit you with a car?"

Gilbert laughed and nuged his brother, "Yeah, didn't he tell you?"

"Nein," Ludwig resonded, shooting a glare at Francis, "My best friend of nearly five years failed to tell me that he almost killed his boyfriend."

"You know," Arthur mused, "I completly forgot about that." Arthur looked to Francis with a fake scowl, "Bastard."

Francis clutched his chest, "You wound me!" He said overdramatically.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You're the one who hit me with a bloody car."

"He carries a valid point." Ludwig said.

Francis turned to him, "I am you best friend of five years, you're supposed to side with me!"

"That's his flaw," Gilbert began, pointing a thumb at his younger brother, "I'm his own brother, but he never sides with me!"

"That's because you're an idiot."

Lovino took a sip of his wine ad set the glass on the table, "You think having one idiot brother is bad? I got three of them."

Antonio gave the Italian a hurt look, "We are all sitting right here."

"To be fair," Arthur defended, "Feliciano is in the other room with the boys."

Antonio cocked an eyebrow, "What's your point?"

For a moment, Arthur looked stumpted. Finally, he just shrugged, chuckling at his own weak answer, "He can't hear you."

Gilbert began to laugh and replied with heavy sarcasm, "Well, that's the best reason I could ever imagine! I think that we all here should just start insulting him, just because he isn't here," His voice and laughter grew louder as he continued, "Not that we actually mean any of the things we say, just like Lovi, he never means anything he says!" He began to quiet down as his tone became fond, "Like just twenty minutes ago, he told me that he hated me, but, in truth, he loves me."

"I do hate you." Lovino responded.

Gilbert gertured to him, "See? There he goes again, hiding his ture feelings. It's okay, babe, I love you too." He laughed again at Lovino's look of disgust before going into a short coughing fit.

Ludwig gave his brother a look of concern, but Gilbert waved him off, "I'm just kidding Lovino, but thanks for being a good sport about it and not flipping me off."

Lovino smiled, "Don't worry, there will be a perfect time and place for that."

Gilbert winked at him, "Can't wait."

"Yes," Arthur said, turning his wheelchair so that he was facing Francis, "We all can't wait for the memorble day when Lovino tells you to fuck off."

"What are you doing?" Francis asked with a yawn.

Arthur kicked his feet up onto Francis lap, "I need to stretch my legs."

Francis only hummed in reply as he began to massage Arthur's knees. Arthur put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand as he closed his eyes.

"Does that feel nice?" Francis said in a light teasing tone.

"Yes."

"Woah," Gilbert interrupted, "It's getting pretty hot in here."

Lovino and Ludwig groaned simultaneously.

Francis gave his friend a sarcastic smile, "You're just jelous that _you_ don't have a boyfriend."

"Ouch." Antonio laughed

"No!" Glibert denied, "You're jelous that I'm single and have all this freedom!"

"Sure, whatever you say Gilbert." Francis said sarcastically.

Gilbert continued, "Which I don't understand why I am anyway. I mean I am a very handsome. Antonio argrees with me. Isn't that right Antonio?"

Antonio looked over and actually seemed to regard Gilbert for a moment, "I don't konw, the red eyes kind of creep me out."

Ludwig drank the last bit of beer in his bottle and cleared his throat, "Now, what did I tell you, _Bruder,_ you're a freak of nature."

"I am not!" Gilbert protested.

"Are too."

"Wow," Arthur interruped, "I'm pretty sure that Alfred and Matthew had this same argument yesterday."

"You're right," Gibert began, "I'm sorry for my brother's immaturity."

"_Entschuldigen Sie?_"

The entire table chuckled excpet for Lovino, who looked like he was about to fall asleep. Francis looked over back to Arthur, who hadn't opened his eyes since his massage started, and come to think about it, the living room had been quiet for a while now.

Francis patted Arthur's leg, "Alright, I think it's about time we wrap up the night."

"_Que?"_ Anotnio pouted, "Why?"

Lovino yawned and blinked open his eyes, "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

Arthur moved his leg out of the way as Francis stood up and began cleaning up the table, "You guys had a long trip here, and you could use some sleep." He said, grabbing some of Gilbert's trash.

"That's not fair!" Gilbert started, "I don't think-"

Ludwig smacked his older brother on the back of his head, "I think it's about time we left. We have work tomorrow anyway."

"No we don't! We don't work on Sundays!" Gilbert argued.

Ludwig let out a sigh if exasperation, "Since when?"

Francis rolled his eyes at the two brothers as he picked up the last of the plates and turned into the kitchen, the voices from the table becoming muffled. He rinsed off the plates and set them in the dishwaser. It was a lot more that what he was used to since he was picking up for nine people, but cleaning never really bothered him. He was just begining to rinse the pot of spaghetti when the kitchen door swung open.

"You need to get rid of this door." Arthur said in a nagging tone.

Francis filled the pot with dish soap, "Why?"

"Because your house is small and it seems out of place."

Francis began to scrub the pot with a rough spounge, "Really? And I guess you know everything about interior design?"

Francis could almost hear Arthur's eyes roll before he dropped the subject, "Gilbert and Ludwig say 'goodbye'. They didn't want to bother you while you were cleaning."

Francis hummed in reply as turned on the faucet and rinsed the soap out of the pot.

There was a long pause before Arthur spoke again, his voice timid, "All your brothers think that they're sleeping in the living room."

Francis nodded and turned off the faucet. He set the pot in the sink to dry overnight and turned to Arthur, wiping his hands on a handtowel, "They are."

Arthur hesitated, "Well, there's a couch, loveseat, and recliner, and all three will be taken."

"And?"

Arthur crossed his arms, "Where will I be sleeping?"

Francis folded his cloth and set it on the counter, "Well," He started in a careful tone, "I thought that we could share my bed."

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, "Oh, umm…"

"Is that okay?" Francis asked after Arthur trailed off.

"Umm…" Arthur glanced away in thought, "Sure. Yeah, that's fine."

"Are you sure?"

Arthur waved his hand in dissmissal, "It's fine, Francis."

Francis shrugged, "Okay."

There was another long silence before Arthur spoke again, "Feliciano and the boys fell asleep in the living room. I already sent the boys to bed with Black Jack, and your brothers are getting ready for bed."

Francis nodded, "I think that we should head to bed too, you look tired."

Arthur rubbed his eyes under his glasses, "When am I going to get my energy back? You know, by this time in my recovery, I thought that I wouldn't be so tired all the time."

Francis chuckled, "That's not recovery, that's being an adult. Don't you remember being tired all the time before the coma?"

"No, I forgot about that." Arthur groaned.

"Anyway," Francis said, waving Arthur away, "Off to bed, I'll be there in a moment, I just need to wipe down the counter."

"If you say so." Arthur replied, turning on his wheels and heading out the door.

With a sigh, Francis turned back around and wiped the counter with the cloth before tossing it behind the sink and leaving the kitchen.

"Good night, guys, I'll see you in the morning for breakfast." He said as he passed by his brothers in the living room.

"_Buenas noches._"

"_Buona notte._"

Lovino only mumbled something as adjusted himself on the couch. Francis mumbled something indistinguishable back to him, hoping that he was speaking the language correctly.

He went into the restroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before head to his room with a yawn. He passed the threshold of his room only to stop in his tracks. Arthur was looking out the window. The bed to the right and the window in across the room agve Francis an image of Arthur's last few weeks in the hospital. After all, Arthur didn't watch much of the tellie or listen to the radio that often, so that was how he had spent a good protion of his time. Staring out the window like a cat.

Francis shook the thoughts out of his head, "Are you ready for bed?" He asked, closing the door behind him.

Arthur didn't answer, he just kept staring out the window.

With a sigh, Francis walked across the room and took the Englishman's hand, "Arthur?"

Arthur jumped and looked up at Francis with wide eyes before his expression relaxed, "Bloody hell, don't scare me like that."

"How? I alredy spoke to you."

Arthur looked back to the window, "Sorry, I was thinking."

Francis paused, "... Thinking? Or spacing out?"

Arthur didn't answer.

Francis sighed again, "Are you ready for bed?"

Arthur nodded.

With a nod, Francis turned Arthur's chair away from the window and over to the bed. After helping Arthur in, he rounded the bed and got in in the other side. He reached over to his left and turned on his oxyegen tank. He turned to Arthur and gave him a kiss, "_Bonne nuit._"

"Good night, Francis." Arthur responded.

Francis put the oxygen tubes in his nose, tucked them behind his ears, reached over and turned off the bedside lamp, "Je t'aime, Arthur." He said as he laid down on his pillow.

"I love you, too."

Francis stared at his celing for a long moment. It had been a very long time since he was on "his" side of the bed. He had laid on "his" side for a month or so after Joanne's death, but after not being able to sleep for so long, he knew that had to change. After getting a new mattress, conforters, sheets, and bed frame, he was able to finally sleep. Even so, the last time he was on "his" side, the side next to him was empty.

Francis looked over to see Arthur. His back was to him, and he was on the edge of his side, but he was there.

Francis smiled lightly as he turned back to the ceiling and closed his eyes.

It was nice to have someone sleeping next to him again.

…

_That Morning_

…

Arthur had hoped that he didn't offend Francis last night.

When your boyfriend turns his back on you and sleeps as far away from you as possible, it had to be offensive. But, to be fair, sharing the bad was a surpise, and Arthur wasn't big on physical affection. He knew that Francis knew this, but he still hoped that he was sympathetic.

It didn't really matter now, though.

Because, Arthur woke up comfortably warm, and it took him a few minutes to realize why. He opened his eyes to see that, yes, he was centimeters away from Francis' face, and cuddling with him.

Arthur picked up his head and looked around for some way out of the awkward position, until he realized that there wasn't a way out. Perhaps if he could stand and walk, he could slip out, but not while he was wheelchair-bound. With a sigh, Arthur laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes again, completely accepting it.

He wasn't really opposed to it. After all, it was nice to be sharing a bed with someone again.

…

…

…

Translations:

Mon Chou: (French)- Sweetie

Quoi?: (French)- What?

Je suis désolé: (French)- I am sorry

Mi sei mancato: (Italian)- I missed you

Ciao: (Italian)- Hello

Que: (Spanish)- What?

Buenas noches: (Spanish)- Good night

Buona notte: (Italian)- Good night

Bonne nuit: (French)- Good night

Other notes:

I'm sorry for not updating for… Months. Winter break and the start of the new year was very busy and I had a horrible case of the dreaded writers' block. But I'm back!

"_Arthur wondered if Alfred would ever get through the phase of running everywhere he went."_

-This is actually a repeated thought of Arthur's from the third chapter, this is why Arthur gets a case of Déjà vu.

Lain's gift was originally going to be a photo album filled with pictures of Arthur, Kate, and young Alfred. However, since I am shifting into more of a lighthearted tone in this part of the story, I didn't keep it, it would have been very emotional and angsty.

I have planned Black Jack for a very long time, and I just really excited that he's finally in the story!

The song from Al Bowlly "_Somewhere In France With You"_ is a WWII wartime song that came out in 1939. This was also a reference to the story _Healing_ by FeliksŁukasiewicz00 . Permission for the reference was given by FeliksŁukasiewicz00. By the way, if you like WWII AU's, you should pick up _Healing,_ you can find it under my favorites list.

Disclaimer: Niether I or FeliksŁukasiewicz00 own the song.

By the way, if you like WWII AU's you should read _Healing._ If you're interested, go to my profile, click on "Favorite Arthuors" then on "FeliksŁukasiewicz00", and scroll down to the story. It isn't complete, but it is being updated regularly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey, guys! I am now on tumblr! Check me out, and you can ask me questions on my fanfics, or any question really! You can find my url on my profile!**

**Back to the story!**

…

_Late May_

…

_I should start a garden, _Francis thought as he walked up his porch, looking at the empty space on the right, _That's why there's space there, why not use it?_

"But, summer is, like, a _thousand_ times better than autumn!" Alfred argued loudly, breaking Francis out of his thoughts, "Because you can go swimming and stuff!"

"Well, I do like swimming," Matthew commented, "But, the leaves turn pretty in autumn."

Francis unlocked the front door as Alfred defended his statement, "Really? Leaves? What's prettier than water that you can jump into and splash in?"

"Well, I-"

Francis opened the door and interrupted them, "Alright, alright, I think your nice conversation about the seasons has turned into an argument, that's enough."

"But you argue with Daddy all the time!" Alfred whined.

Francis sighed and stepped into the house, closing the door behind the boys, "Just because I told you to stop arguing with Matthew doesn't mean you can argue with me." Before Alfred could respond, Francis added, "Now, go put your backpacks in your room and get yourselves a small snack, there are apples in the fridge."

Matthew began to walk off to their room, "Okay, Papa."

"Can I have some crisps instead?"

Alfred was usually a very easy-going kid, but every now and then he can be difficult, and at rare times, as stubborn as his father. Francis resisted the urge to raise his voice, "No, Alfred. You can have an apple, or something else healthy."

"Fine." Alfred said in a pouting voice, finally walking off.

Francis sighed again as he tossed his keys in the little bowl by the door, glancing into the living room, "Arthur?" He walked into the dining room and kitchen, only to find that the rooms were empty as well. It was a little strange. Arthur had gone to a doctor's appointment and to lunch with Lain, but Francis figured that they would be back by now. Maybe Lain had some errands to run before bringing Arthur home.

He turned back into the dining room to see a note that he had missed before. Francis got closer to the table to read it.

_I'm in bed. Wake me when you get home._

That was also a little strange, for Arthur wasn't one to take naps. He even protested against them most of the time while recovering in the hospital. Putting the stressful hospital memories aside, He headed to his- or _their_ room- only to see Arthur laying in bed with Black Jack curled up by his head. Francis walked across the room quietly. He kicked off his shoes, climbed into bed, got under the covers, and laid right behind Arthur, snaking his arms around Arthur's waist. He was just about to wake Arthur when Black Jack mewed and gave a soft headbutt as a greeting.

Arthur shifted and took in a deep breath at the sudden movements, but just relaxed again, trying to back into the deeper sleep that Francis brought him out of. Francis smiled, "You're so cute when you're sleepy." He teased.

Arthur only grunted in reply.

Francis chuckled, "Why did you take a nap? It isn't like you."

Arthur stretched and yawned, "It was an exhausting day." He paused as he sighed and relaxed again, "Lain is usually quiet, but if you get him talking, he doesn't stop, the restaurant we went to was really, really crowded, and going to the doctor is always stressful, so I was pretty tired when we got home." Arthur's voice became frustrated, "You know, none of this would have tired me out before-"

Francis interrupted him, "You're recovering. Don't forget, you're body is still weak. Moving around probably tired you out the most. Your energy level will get back to normal in time, _Cher_, you just have to be patient."

Arthur only let out a sigh of frustration.

"What did the doctor say?" Francis asked, changing the subject.

"Do you want good, or bad news first?"

"Bad news." Francis responded.

Arthur curled up slightly, "I mentioned teaching in the fall and he said that it was unrealistic, and that I should shoot for next January."

"What?" Francis said in surprise, "Until next year? But they already have a temporary replacement for you at the school!"

"Well, the substitute that's there for me is going to be real happy when she finds out that she'll be working longer." Arthur's voice then brightened, "It isn't all bad though. You know Lukas, right?"

"_Oui."_

"Well, this has nothing to do with what the doctor said, but he has a younger brother in the nineth grade, and-"

"The ninth grade?" Francis echoed, "Isn't Lukas you're age?"

Arthur gave an irritated sigh, "Yes, it's a big age difference for brothers, it's a long story, _anyway_," He said, getting back on track, "Emil, his brother, is having trouble in his history class, and Lukas wanted me to tutor him."

"That's great, or," Francis chuckled, "I mean, it's too bad that Emil's having a hard time, but at least you get to teach."

There was a long silence until Francis asked, "What was the good news that the doctor gave you?"

"I didn't tell you?"

Francis' smile faltered at Arthur's lacking memory, "Uh, no. No you didn't."

"Oh…" Arthur took a deep breath, "I'm finally not underweight anymore."

"That's good," Francis said, lifting his head and kissing his Englishman's cheek, "You're so much more attractive when you're not all skin and bones."

"Umm, thank you?"

"You're welcome."

That's when the door opened, "Hey! We got somethin'' to tell ya!" Alfred yelled as he jumped up on the bed, Matthew right behind him.

Francis rolled onto his back as Arthur turned to his other side, "And what would that be?" Francis asked.

Alfred began his story, "At school, Mr. Braginsky told us about Friend Day on Thursday."

"Friend Day?" Arthur prompted.

"Yeah," Matthew continued, "We are supposed to bring a adult friend to school after class to meet our teacher and play games in the gym."

Alfred began to bounce where he sat, "And-and we thought that I could bring Francis, and Matthew could bring Daddy!"

"I don't think that's the point of the event." Arthur commented.

Francis nodded in agreement, "I think you're supposed to bring someone other than your parents, besides," He added, turning to Arthur, "It's been a few weeks since we went out."

Alfred tilted his head, "Like who?"

Arthur glanced away in thought for a moment before settling his eyes in the boy's direction, "Why don't you ask Ludwig and Gilbert? They'll be home from work tonight, you can ask them then."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "See, Al? I _told_ you that we should have just asked them!"

Alfred narrowed his eyebrows at his friend, "No, you didn't! You agreed with me from the start."

Before the fight could go on, Francis spoke up, "Hey, I said enough with the fighting!"

"Sorry." The boys said simultaneously.

Francis sat up and pointed at the door, "You two, get your after-school snack. And _you!"_ He pointed at Arthur aggressively, "Get out of my bed!"

Arthur gave a fake, sad look, "I thought you liked me in your bed!"

Francis narrowed his eyes, "Who are you again? Henry? Richard?"

Arthur looked offended, "Arthur! My name is Arthur!"

Francis shrugged, "Well it was some king of England. I was close."

Arthur punched him in the arm playfully, "Just help me into my chair already!"

Francis got out of bed, "Of course, Your Majesty."

…

_Thursday_

…

Arthur was laughing. You could tell he was trying to stifle it, though. They were in public, and he was trying not to laugh too loudly, but people were still glancing at him. It didn't matter to Francis, he just kept smiling fondly at his partner, who was covering his mouth as he always did when he laughed.

It had been a splendid evening so far. The boys were at the school, and later spending the night with Ludwig and Gilbert, giving the whole night to each other, and it was wonderful. Francis loved Matthew and Alfred with all his heart, but he had to admit, children can be real cock-blocks.

Francis, as good at romance that he knows he is, decided that they should go to a theater to see the new romance film, but Arthur said that all romance films are overly sappy, and Francis couldn't figure out why he didn't see that reaction coming. Instead, Arthur suggested going to the Italian restaurant on Victoria Street. The same one where they spent their first date. Francis didn't point that out, though. Arthur was trying to be casually romantic, may as well let him win at it rather than teasing him for it.

"You're not listening, are you?"

Francis snapped himself out of his thoughts and casually took a drink of his wine as he tried to remember the conversation, "Of course I am."

Arthur gave him an unimpressed look, "Really? What was I talking about?"

"The American Rebellion." Francis said confidently.

Arthur narrowed his eyebrows, "No. The Seven Years' war."

Francis tilted his head as he paused, he could have sworn he was talking about The American Rebellion, "You're messing with me." He concluded with a smile.

Arthur gave an irritated sigh, "No, I am not."

Francis smiled wider, "Yes, you are. I know because you were talking about George Washington."

Arthur nodded, "George Washington fought in the Seven Years' war. You would know that if you had been listening."

Francis chuckled, "What does it matter? It was another war were the British stomped the hell out of the French. Same story, different time period."

"Actually," Arthur said, his eyes lighting up with interest and passion again, "The British weren't winning the war for the most part. They won unexpectedly at the very end, making them a global empire without any money, which lead to neglect to its colonies and eventual rebellions."

"So, let me get this straight." Francis started, "The French screwed over the British by _losing_ the war?"

Arthur chuckled, "By starting and ending it, yes."

"How did they start it?"

"Oh, no," Arthur said before pausing to take a sip of his water, "I'm just saying that because I'm English, and everything is France's fault."

"Even global warming?" Francis asked.

Arthur gave a teasing smile, "You frogs try to make up for it now with your stupid, environmentally-friendly mopeds, but you're not doing the world any favors."

Francis laughed, "Really? Wow! That is some extra sass today! I don't think I can think of a come-back for that."

Arthur shrugged, "I guess I win then. I have reached my ultimate level, and have given my greatest contribution to this planet. I can die happy now."

Francis rolled his eyes, "I'm pretty sure you'll out-do yourself by next week."

Arthur nodded, "Probably."

There was a long, yet comfortable silence until Arthur said, "Want to play 'Questions'?"

Francis smiled, trying to think of his first question, "Sure. You go first."

Arthur didn't miss a beat, "Do you love me?"

The question thew Francis off, "Of-of course, _Cher_. Do you love me?"

Arthur blinked and tried to give an expressionless stare, but the corners of his lips made the slightest smile, "No."

_Did Arthur really just start this game to give himself another chance to be sarcastic?_ Francis smiled, "Did you set that up on purpose?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Was that two questions in a row?"

Francis pointed at him, "You didn't answer my question!"

Arthur's smile grew, "You lost first."

"That doesn't matter!" Francis exclaimed, grinning like an idiot, "The point of the game is to get to know each other! Not to set up the other to lose!"

"Well," Arthur started, "I kinda already know you, which defeats the purpose of the game, so the only reason to play the game now is to win."

Francis couldn't think how to respond, he just sat there, still pointing at the man across from him.

Arthur gave a wicked grin, "I stomped the hell out of you, frog."

Neither of them could hold their laughter in, which gained strange looks from the people around them, but they didn't care.

…

_Meanwhile…_

…

The car ride to the school had been an entertaining one with the two German brothers bickering in the front seats. Matthew probably wouldn't call it bickering, though. Really, it was more Gilbert purposely bothering Ludwig while he drove. Poor Ludwig. Gilbert may had gotten Matthew to come out of his shell, but with Alfred around, sometimes he could really relate to the younger German.

"Are we there yet?" Gilbert asked for the millionth time.

And each time Gilbert said this, Ludwig got more and more irritated, "_Mien Gott_, Gilbert, the school is right there we are in the _ficken _parking lot!" He grumbled.

Gilbert turned his head to the window, trying to casually rest his chin on his hand when really, he was just covering up a smile. Matthew curled his lips, trying to hide his as well. He glanced to Alfred, who had a similar expression.

Matthew looked back to Ludwig to see the man grip the steering wheel tighter, "Stop laughing."

"I'm not laughing," Gilbert snickered, "Why would I laugh at my own _bruder?_ That would be so mean!"

Ludwig remained silent as he pulled into a parking space, "There. We're parked. We're here. Now you can stop complaining."

"I'm hungry." Gilbert responded without hesitation.

Ludwig turned his head slowly to his older brother with a look of restraint. Matthew couldn't keep his own giggles in, and neither could Alfred.

"Oh, _Gott_, don't kill me! I was kidding, we just had dinner! Take a joke!" Gilbert exclaimed.

Ludwig took a long look at Gilbert before sighing and getting out of the car. Gilbert chuckled, opening his door as well, "C'mon, boys."

Reminded of his excitement of Friend Day, Matthew stepped out of the car with Alfred, who immediately ran across the parking lot and to the sidewalk that lead to the school.

"Careful, Alfred!" Ludwig scolded, already halfway to the sidewalk himself.

Matthew rounded the car to see Gilbert waiting patiently for him with a light smile on his face, "You ready, Birdie?"

Gilbert never had questioned Matthew's caution and slow pace, and that was something that Matthew liked about him. Papa had always told Matthew that there was nothing to be scared or cautious of, and Arthur and Alfred just tried to hurry him up, almost as if he had gotten distracted by something, but Gilbert always waited for him, seemingly not minding the slow pace. Matthew wasn't quite sure why he liked that so much, for comforting him and rushing him where both ways to help him along, but it was one of the reasons why he would have to thank Gilbert someday.

Despite knowing that Gilbert didn't mind waiting, Matthew walked quickly to him, not wanting to slow down everyone else. He grabbed Gilbert's hand and let the German lead him across the street.

They were in the hallways of the school when, like he had a few other times that night, Gilbert coughed harshly into his elbow. Ludwig glanced at them over his shoulder and said something in German, worry lacing his voice. Gilbert said something back, sounding like there was nothing to be worried about.

Matthew swallowed hard, tightening his hold on Gilbert's hand slightly as his stomach knotted. There was so much obvious anxiety between the two brothers, and Matthew didn't even know what they were talking about.

_Is Gilbert getting ill again?_ The thought made his stomach feel worse as he remembered the last time Gilbert had gotten ill just over a year ago, when he even had to stay at the hospital for a few weeks to get better. That was when Gilbert taught him how genetics worked, and how Gilbert had gotten too many recessive traits. Gilbert explained how he wasn't breathing when he was born, and that it was a miracle that the doctors were able to help him. He said that the recessive traits were the reason why he was albino, blind as a bat without his contacts, was already having some trouble hearing, and why his immune system was so weak… His parents even called him "Their Little Miracle" because all the doctors didn't think that he would live past his toddler years.

Matthew was brought back to earth when Gilbert stopped and knelt down to his level, "Matthew? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm sorry." Matthew said on impulse.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale." Gilbert said, his eyebrows narrowed in concern.

Matthew nodded, "Uh-huh. I'm fine, must be the lighting."

Gilbert looked at him for a moment before taking a deep breath and standing up, "Alright, but if start feel bad, you tell me."

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

Gilbert gave a grin, "Because if you don't, I will never buy you ice cream again."

Matthew chuckled, "I promise! I promise!"

Gilbert nodded in approval, "_Sehr gut?"_

"_Sehr gut!" _Matthew repeated, pronouncing the German phrase perfectly.

Still holding Gilbert's hand, the two walked into the classroom and to Mr. Braginsky, who Alfred and Ludwig were already talking to.

"Well, hello, Matthew!" Mr. Braginsky said with a kind smile, "And how are you tonight?"

"Hi, I'm doing well." Matthew responded.

Mr. Braginsky cocked his head slightly, "That's wonderful to hear. Who is your friend?" He said, directing his attention to Gilbert.

"This is Gilbert."

"Ludwig's annoying brother." Gilbert expanded, giving a half hearted gesture to his younger brother.

"At least you know it." Matthew heard Ludwig mumble, although he wasn't sure if anyone else did.

Mr. Braginsky nodded, offering a hand to shake, "Ah, yes! I have heard a little about you!"

Gilbert shook Mr. Braginsky's hand, "You… Have?"

"Oh, da," Mr. Braginsky continued, "We had a "Show and Tell" just the other week and he brought in a little stuffed bird that you gave him, right?" He asked, looking back to Matthew.

"Yep!" Alfred interrupted, "And I brought in something that Dad embroidered for me!"

Mr. Braginsky chuckled, "Yes, both sweet gestures." He glanced to something behind them, and when Matthew looked over his shoulder, there were other people waiting behind him, "But, I mustn't keep you from the games. There is a drawing game at the desks on the other side of the room and a ball game in the gymnasium."

After exchanging some "thank you's" and "nice meeting you's", the four of them walked over to the desks where a teenage boy was standing, looking board, if not tired.

"Hi, Emil!" Alfred greeted.

Recognition crossed the teen's face, "Oh, hey, Alfred. I didn't know you were going to be here."

"Yep, Mr. Braginsky is my and Mattie's teacher!" Alfred exclaimed.

"I wouldn't have guessed." Emil said, but Matthew couldn't be sure if it was sarcasm or not.

"I didn't know you were going to be here either!"

Emil shrugged, "It's for an extra credit assignment."

"Alfred, how do you know him?" Ludwig asked.

"Lukas is, like, my Dad's best friend, and this is his little brother." Alfred explained.

"_Younger_ brother." Emil corrected.

Gilbert gasped over dramatically, "But I thought that _I_ was your father's best friend!"

Alfred shook his head, "No, I'm pretty sure it's Lukas."

Gilbert pretended to be angry, his act making Matthew giggle, "Tell your father that we aren't friends anymore!"

Alfred shrugged, "Okay."

"So, what's the game?" Ludwig said, getting everyone back on track.

"Right," Emil began, "Um, you both sit down on opposite sides of the desk. Then, one of you will take a _Dictionary of Nouns_ book, close their eyes and open to a random page and set you finger on it. Whatever word you land on is the word you will use, got it?"

Everyone nodded at the same time.

Emil continued, "The the other person will put a blindfold on and try to draw the noun on a piece of paper."

"Oh!" Gilbert exclaimed, "I've heard of this game before! What the name of it? I forgot."

Emil shrugged, "I can't remember either."

There was a short pause before Ludwig spoke, "But, you're the one explaining the game."

"And?"

Ludwig's eyebrows narrowed slightly, "Shouldn't you know? Didn't someone tell you how to explain it and what the name of it was?"

Emil nodded, "Yes, they did. You can't expect me to remember everything."

Ludwig was about to say something else, but Emil's attention directed to another pair as they walked up, and before Ludwig could say anything, Emil was off to explain the game to them. Instead, the German sighed, "Teenagers, I swear to Gott." Ludwig suddenly pointed at Matthew and Alfred, "Don't you two ever become teenagers! If you do, I don't know what I'll do with you!"

Gilbert chuckled as he sat down on one side of a desk, prompting Matthew to sit across from him, "Now, Luddy, how are they just supposed to _skip_ adolescence?"

"Modern science!" Ludwig answered.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Really? If modern science was going to figure out anything about age, it better be the fountain of youth."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, "Oh, like skipping puberty wouldn't be nice."

"Not for me! I've already been through it!"

"What are you even talking about?" Alfred questioned, practically reading Matthew's mind.

Ludwig shook his head, "Nothing, come on, Alfred, let's play."

With Alfred and Ludwig beginning their game, Matthew turned to Gilbert so they could start theirs, "So, do you want to draw first, or…"

Gilbert smiled lightly, "Why don't you go first?"

"Okay, pick a word in the dictionary." Matthew reminded softly.

"Oh, right," Gilbert said, taking the book. He closed his eyes and opened the book to a random page before dramatically moving his finger around the page, lifting it up as high as possible, and slamming it on the page. Matthew giggled at the silliness as Gilbert opened his eyes and read of the word, "Dog. Your word is dog."

"_Hund!"_ Matthew said in perfect German, earning a chuckle from Gilbert, which quickly turned into a cough, but Matthew ignored it. He then took the blindfold and tied it around his head, grabbed the pencil and started drawing on the paper. At first, he didn't know where to start because he couldn't see the paper in front of him, but after a few moments, he decided to make a circle as the head. After that, it came much easier. He erased a little line of the circle away and made a rounded-rectangular like shape for the muzzle, then he moved to the body, making an oval shape down and to the right of the head, making sure he had room for the neck, which he drew after erasing a little of the back of the head and the front of the body so he could connect them.

He was doing better than he thought he was going to! He could almost see it in his head! It was coming out so wonderfully! _Wunderbar_ was the word for it! With confidence, he continued to the tail and the legs, making sure that they all had the same amount of toes. Of course, he couldn't forget details! So, he added a few spots, a collar, and a tongue that stuck out from it's lips.

"I'm done!" Matthew announced.

"Alright," Matthew could hear the smile in Gilbert's voice, "Take off the blindfold and look at your masterpiece."

It wasn't anything like what he imagined in his head. What he thought was going to look like a cute puppy ended up being nothing but a bunch of random shapes and scribbles. Although slightly disappointing, Matthew found it funny more than anything, so he laughed at his own, stupid drawing.

Gilbert laughed along, "Oh, come on, it can't be that bad." He reached over and turned the paper around so he could see it better, "I can kind of make it out."

Matthew shrugged, "Maybe, I think you'll do better, though."

Gilbert hummed and handed him the dictionary, "Well, only one way to find out."

Matthew closed his eyes, opened the book, and set his finger on the page, "Lamp." He read.

"Okie-dokie." Gilbert responded, already tying the blindfold on himself.

Gilbert, then, began to draw, first starting off with triangle shape. He drew vertical lines inside of it as, what Matthew would guess, a lampshade, but half of the lines weren't even inside the triangle, some of them just floating in empty space. Afterwards, Gilbert drew two more vertical lines under the triangle, what was probably the neck, but it was off to the left from the triangle. Then he drew a circle as a base that was way too low and ended up completely separated from the neck.

Matthew giggled as Gilbert finished the last touches, which were lines that sprouted from around the lampshade, or at least, the general area of it, but Matthew didn't know what they were for.

Gilbert smiled, "Is it really that bad?"

"No, no, it's good!" Matthew tried to reassure.

"Well, let's see." Gilbert said, taking the blindfold off. He looked at the picture with a disbelieving smile, "Wow, I didn't know I could draw that badly!" He chuckled.

Matthew giggled, "It's good! I promise!" He insisted, trying to make Gilbert feel better, "I'll even keep it and hang it up in my room!"

Gilbert nodded, "Alright, alright, but only if I can keep yours."

Matthew bounced in his chair, "_Sehr gut!"_

…

…

Alfred's rocket looked nothing like he thought it would, but he didn't let that bring him down, for he was far too excited for whatever ball game was in the gym. Maybe it would be football, he loved playing football with his friends. Maybe Kiku would be there, he Kiku and Mattie always made a good team.

There was the door to the gymnasium, it was closed, but Alfred could hear people on the other side. It was too exciting for him. He had to get in there. So, he ran forward, stopped at the door, and turned around to his group, "C'mon guys! You're so slow!"

"We're coming, Alfred," Ludwig answered, "We got here early enough, so there is no hurry."

Alfred turned around and got up on his toes, pressing himself against the door so he could see through the window, "But, I want to play the ball game!"

"Well, I'm right here, so you don't have to fuss anymore." Ludwig said as he reached around and opened the door.

People were all around the gym. Most of the adults were talking with each other as the children ran around the large room, but right in the middle back was a teenage girl in a blue spring dress and long pigtails who was standing with a garbage can, a little foam ball, and a dry erase board. Alfred gasped, "There it is! See?"

"I see, I see." Ludwig responded.

"C'mon!" Alfred yelled, grabbing Ludwig's hand and running them over to the girl.

The girl immediately smiled, "Hey, guys, how are you two tonight."

The girl was so nice to smile at him like that! This is why Alfred loved people because people were so nice! Alfred bounced on his heels, "I'm good!"

Alfred glanced up at Ludwig just in time to see him adjust his collar, "Full of energy." The man said after clearing his throat.

"That's good," The girl exclaimed, "I am Michelle. Are you here to play our little ball game?"

"Uh-huh," Alfred answered turning and pointing to Matthew and Gilbert, "But we have to wait for them, they're with us."

Ludwig sighed, "Gilbert!" He called.

At that moment, Gilbert scooped up Mattie, making him give a short scream before laughing. Gilbert began to skip like a little girl, "Coming, Luddy."

Once Gilbert made it over, he put Mattie down again and everyone looked to Michelle to explain the game.

"Alright!" She exclaimed, "This is a trivia game over world history, a subject that a lot of the students here are learning about. Since there is four of you, you will split into two teams, one student with the friend that they brought against the other student and their friend."

Alfred gave Mattie each other a challenging look, "I'm gonna beat you, Mattie!"

"Alfred, let her speak." Ludwig scolded.

Alfred didn't apologize like he probably should have, but instead he let Michelle continue, "I will ask you a question about world history. If you need help from you friend, that's okay." She then pointed to a little line of masking tape on the floor, "If you answer it right, then you take the foam ball, stand behind that line, and try to shoot it into the garbage can. If you score, you get one point, which you need three to win. But, if you answer wrong, then the other team can steal it and try to answer and shoot." She paused for a few seconds before giving an uncertain expression, "Got it?"

Everyone exchanged glances before Ludwig said, "_Ja,_ I think so."

Michelle nodded, "Good, which team wants to go first?"

Once again, everyone looked at each other for an answer, but this time, Gilbert spoke up, gesturing to Alfred's team, "Go ahead, guys."

"Okay, are you ready?" Michelle said, looking at Alfred.

Alfred bounced in excitement again, "Yeah!"

"Okay," She started, "What continent is The Nile in?"

Alfred knew this one! It was so easy! "Egypt!" He answered.

Michelle's face twisted a little, "I'm sorry, but that's wrong."

It didn't make sense, he could have sworn that The Nile was in Egypt. Perhaps it was a different river?

"Okay, guys," Michelle said, looking at Matthew, "Would you like to steal this question? Or would you like a different one?"

Mattie stayed silent for a moment, "Steal?"

Michelle nodded, "What continent is The Nile in?"

Mattie glanced up at the ceiling before answering, "Africa?"

"Good job!" Michelle praised, handing the ball to him, "Now stand behind the line and try to shoot the ball into the garbage can!"

_Oh_. This was the exact same mistake that Alfred had done on a quiz in class. Confusing the two terms country and continent. A little embarrassed, Alfred watched Mattie shoot the ball into the can without any trouble, and Michelle put a point on the whiteboard under the label: _Team 1_.

"Alright, Team Two, your second question!" Michelle announced, "Who is the famous scientist that created the laws of gravity and motion?"

This one was harder, but Alfred had to make sure to actually think about it before answering unlike he had last time, "Isaac Newton?"

"That's right! Here you go!" Michelle smiled, handing him the ball.

Alfred took the ball and stood behind the line. The distance was probably put there for younger kids, for it was too close to be any kind of challenge, but Alfred still aimed carefully, not wanting to just throw the point away. The tossed it into the can without any difficulty, just as Mattie did. Afterwards, Michelle put a tally mark under _Team 2_ and they were officially tied.

"Team One," Michelle started, "Before written history is known as what?"

_Prehistory _Alfred wanted to yell out loud, but he knew that it was Mattie's turn, and hoped that his friend would get the question wrong.

Despite the hoping, Mattie got the question right, "Prehistory."

"Good job!" Michelle exclaimed, giving Mattie the ball, who took it gratefully and threw it and scored without a problem. After giving Mattie a point, Michelle turned to Alfred, "Your next questions is: What is an Artifact?"

They just went over this one in class, and Alfred tried to remember the definition as well as he could, but he was unsure of his answer, "A object made by someone?"

Michelle's face twisted slightly, until she nodded, "It's a bit vague, but I'll give it to you."

After the ball was handed to him, Alfred shot it easily into the can, and received a second tally under _Team 2_. They were tied again.

"Okay, this is a sudden death round, whoever wins this point, wins the game." The teen said in a suspenseful tone, "Team One, your last question: What is the last remaining country of the former Ottoman Empire?"

Mattie's eye got large with panic, making Alfred smile, he didn't know this one! Maybe Alfred had a chance to win! But, the dread filled him when he realized he didn't know either.

Mattie looked to Gilbert, "Do you know?"

Gilbert ran his palm over his forehead, "Um…" He hissed through his teeth, thinking hard, "Oh, god, I can't remember… I know it, I just can't…" He ended his sentence with a groan, "Sorry, buddy."

"It's okay…" Mattie said politely.

Michelle turned to Alfred with a knowing smile, "Do either of you know."

Alfred tried to think through his class. He could remember the Ottoman Empire being mentioned, but couldn't remember anything about it. If he recalled it correctly, they didn't learn about the Ottomans in much detail…

Eventually, Alfred owned up to it, "I don't." He looked to Ludwig, desperate for help. He had been confident that Ludwig could help him, but since Gilbert didn't know it, Alfred wasn't so sure anymore.

Ludwig closed his eyes, as if he was trying to visualize something, until finally, he opened his eyes and answered, "Turkey."

_That can't be right,_ Alfred thought, _We never talked about Turkey in class._

But, to Alfred's surprise, Michelle smiled again, "Correct!" She said loudly, handing the ball over, "If you shoot, then you win!"

Alfred took the ball and carefully aimed again, if he missed this, then Matthew would get another question and might win, so he had to make this shot. But, luckily for Alfred, the garbage can was meant for younger kids, so he had no trouble shooting the ball in it.

Michelle put a third tally under _Team Two_ on the whiteboard, "Team Two wins!"

"Yes!" Alfred jumped up and down, releasing some of the energy that he had all day. Of course, he had to thank Ludwig somehow too! He couldn't have won without him! On impulse he turned and hugged the younger German brother, who didn't really return it, but reached around Alfred with one arm and patted his back.

Ludwig was awesome.

…

_Later_

…

Arthur was laughing. He would usually be scolding Francis, but it seemed that they were both in a playful mood. Arthur didn't mind, though, he was having fun, even when Francis was currently running him up the driveway at full speed, quickly closing in on the ramp. Images of not hitting the ramp right and falling over on the grass or concrete entered his mind as they got even closer.

"Francis!" Arthur warned, but Francis only sped up, hitting the ramp and making Arthur bounce in his seat.

Then there was the door, which Francis almost ran them into before successfully stopping in front of it, panting and wheezing. Arthur looked back at him, "You shouldn't be running like that. Your lungs-"

Francis interrupted him, "Are fine… Well, as long as I don't do it too often."

Arthur felt the urge to argue as Francis rounded him and unlocked the door, but he refrained himself. After all, why bring down the mood when they were having so much fun? So, he settled on bantering instead, "I can get up the ramp myself, you know." He knew this statement was a lie, but he loved the fake arguments that were just so entertaining.

Francis laughed as he opened the door and moved to Arthur could get through, "No, you can't, it's too steep for you."

Arthur made his way through the doorway, "No it isn't."

Francis closed the door behind them and ran around to block him from entering the house any further, "You can _try_, as you did this week, but you almost rolled backwards and landed on the ground."

Arthur gasped, "How do you know about that?"

Francis knelt down in front of him, putting his elbows on Arthur's knees and resting his head in his hands, "I was there. I saved you from certain death."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "I survived a traumatic car accident, Francis, I doubt that falling in my back would kill me."

"You're right!" Francis laughed, playfully hitting Arthur's shoulder, "You would lay there like a turtle stuck on it's back!"

Arthur gave him an unimpressed glare, "You can stop laughing, it's not that funny."

Francis gasped and gave him a shocked look, "You're right!" He repeated before his lips curled into a mischievous grin, "You're the one laughing!"

Arthur felt his eyebrows pull together, "No, I'm-"

Francis suddenly reached his hands up and pinched at his neck. Curse him for remembering that he was ticklish! Arthur heard himself laugh uncontrollably as shoulders shot up in an attempt to protect him, but it didn't work. He felt the urge to kick, but Francis was right there, so he ended up stomping on the footrests of his chair instead. Now he was laughing to hard, so hard that tears were stinging his eyes, and he decided that he had enough, "Sto-o-o-oppp-p!" He yelled through his laughing, slouching in his seat as he tried to get away.

Francis was probably enjoying this too much, judging by his laughter, but after a few moments, he stopped and let Arthur catch his breath. Just as he did, Francis suddenly scooped him up in a bridal carry, making Arthur sherik, "What are you doing?"

Francis began to walk down the hallway, "It's time for bed."

Arthur looked back at the wheelchair that seemed to sit lonely in the living room, Arthur reached towards it as if he could actually reach it, "My chair!"

"Silly brit!" Francis exclaimed, "You're not going to sleep in the chair!"

"Francis," Arthur started, "I'm pretty sure that both of us are too hyper to go to sleep."

"But, _Cher_!" Francis said overdramatically as they entered their room, "It's getting late! You have therapy in the morning!"

"No, I don't!" Arthur argued.

Francis stood by Arthur's side of the bed, "It's past your bedtime!"

"I don't have a bedtime!" He retorted, yet Francis just simply stared at him, "What?"

Francis smiled teasingly, "You're so cute when you banter like an idiot."

"Um…" Arthur started, trying to think of a way to respond.

He never got the chance, for his thoughts were interrupted when Francis gave him a little kiss on the lips. It didn't seem to satisfy the frog though, because he gave a longer one right after… And another… And another, each of them more passionate than the other. Arthur kissed back, eventually raising one had to cup Francis' jaw, running his thumb back and forth against his stubble.

Arthur felt himself get lowered to the bed, Francis laying him down gently on the soft mattress. Arthur didn't really notice, or mind, however, he just raised his other hand to Francis' face, making sure he wasn't going anywhere. Once on the bed, Francis slid his arms out from under Arthur before running his hands over Arthur's body, first by rubbing his shoulders and up through his already messy hair.

Arthur moved his hands to the back of Francis' neck and began to play with his pony tail as he felt his heart begin to pound, blood rushing in his ears. Francis ran his hands down Arthur's body again, giving him goose bumps. He slowly made it to Arthur's chest, then to his waist. Arthur was lost in it now, but something had brought him back, snapping him out of it quickly. Francis was playing with the button on Arthur's trousers.

Arthur pulled himself away from Francis' lips with a gasp, pushing the other man away from him.

_Oh, no, _Arthur thought, _That can't work._

Francis froze, his lips curled inward with an unreadable expression. That's when something entered his mind: _Kate, he thinks it's because of Kate._

But before Arthur could reassure him, Francis spoke up, "May I ask why?"

Arthur decided not to bring her up at all, "Well, it's a bit embarrassing."

Francis chuckled, leaning down to kiss at Arthur's neck, "What?" He said between kisses, "Are you really a woman?" He teased.

Now he was flustered, "No! Nothing like tha-" Francis must have kissed the right spot, because his words turned into a moan. He was losing himself again.

"Then what?"

Arthur cleared his throat, forcing himself to think again, "I'm in a wheelchair, Francis. I can't even- I'm not even strong enough to stand."

"You don't have to be."

"But, I-" Arthur began.

"I'm gentle." Francis reassured. It was still between kisses, and perhaps Francis had lost himself already, but it still sounded so sincere.

Oh _god_ he wanted to. He really did. And he did love Francis, didn't he? Very deeply. And he knew that Francis felt the same about him. So what was the problem?

Nothing.

Arthur closed his eyes and began to kiss him back again, "Okay."

…

…

…

…

Translations:

Ficken: (German)- Fucking

Sehr gut: (German)- Very good

Authors Note:

Sorry this is WAY late. Between finals coming up, work, writer's block, and an anxiety disorder, I was struggling with finding time and energy to write this. Anyway, thanks for not giving up on me! **Reviews are always appreciated!**


	15. Chapter 15

…

_The Next Morning_

…

"_I'm gentle."_

Oh, and he had been.

Arthur had never had sex with another man, so he didn't have much to compare it to, but he loved it with Francis. At first, he wasn't really sure why, but then he realized how gentle Francis was. It wasn't "having sex" or "fucking", it was making love. How Francis held him with meaning, practically treating him as if he were made of fragile glass… Which, strangely, wasn't usually the way Arthur liked to be treated, but in this situation, he loved it. It made him feel like someone truly cared about him.

...Or he hasn't had any sex since Kate's death, and that was over four years ago, so basically any sex would be good sex.

Arthur sighed, _Way to ruin it for yourself._

He rolled over in the bed to see Francis still asleep. Arthur scooted closer, wrapped an arm around Francis waist, and rested his head on his chest. Francis moved slightly with a soft sigh, but then relaxed, quickly going back into a deeper sleep. Arthur looked up at him with a fond smile, he would never admit it to his face, but Francis was adorable. The Frenchman breathed deeply and evenly, his face rested in his peaceful sleep, head somewhat cocked to one side, and his lips parted ever so slightly. The only thing wrong was the oxygen tubes, that had somehow moved from their place under his nose to his left cheek.

With a quiet scoff, Arthur reached up and readjusted Francis' oxygen, which turned out harder than Arthur thought, especially when Francis turned his head a little, his eyebrows narrowed in slight discomfort, even letting a tired moan out. But once Arthur was done, Francis only relaxed again.

Arthur sighed deeply and laid his head back down, listening to Francis' heartbeat as he closed his eyes.

He could lay like that forever.

…

_Late June_

…

Francis walked up the porch steps and entered his house, stressed and worried about the conversation he just finished with Ludwig. He ran his hand through his hair. Just when he thought that he had gotten a break, it seemed that life was back to kick him in the ass.

Funny. That seemed to be the perfect description of his life.

"Oh! I have great news!"

The word "stressed" would be an understatement when it came to Francis' current mood, but, although Arthur wasn't a depressing character, he rarely had that much energy and excitement in his voice, so Francis plastered on a smile, saving his bad news for a later conversation, "What is it sweetie?"

Arthur's smile faded, "What's wrong?"

Francis shook his head, "Nothing to be concerned with now, what is it?"

"Nothing to be concerned with _now?"_ Arthur quoted, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Francis sighed, "It means I can talk about it to you later. Now-"

"Well, not when you look that sad." Arthur said, rolling forward a little in his chair.

Francis paused before deciding that he didn't have the energy to fight Arthur's stubbornness, besides, he rather be cheered up my Arthur's good news rather than bring down the mood later. "Gilbert is in the hospital." He stated simply.

Arthur's shoulders slouched a bit, "That sick, huh?"

Francis nodded, "He got a small cold and it went straight to his chest. As usual."

"Is he going to be alright?"

Francis shrugged as he slowly paced over and tossed his keys and wallet on the coffee table, "Always is." He said, turning back to Arthur, who was adjusting his wheelchair so he was facing him, "He hasn't gotten a 'close call' since he was a kid, and he's in the best physical state of his life now, so, probably." The words were meant to reassure Arthur and himself, but his voice ended up sounding somewhat empty, as if he were just stating facts that didn't matter.

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, visibly trying to find something to say, but Francis ended the awkward silence with a deep sigh, "But," He said, trying to sound more upbeat, "What is your good news?"

Arthur kicked his foot rests to the side and moved to the edge of his seat as he reached forward, his palms facing down, "Come here."

Francis did what he was told, only walking a few steps forward and taking Arthur's hands softly, "_Quoi?"_

Arthur smiled, his eyes shining in excitement, "You ready?"

Francis replicated the smile and pulled his eyebrows together, "Ready for what?"

Arthur's smile was replaced with an expression of concentration as he tightened his grip on Francis' hands and used them for support and leaned forward. Slowly, Arthur put more and more pressure on Francis, who braced his arms so Arthur would have more support. Eventually, to Francis' disbelief, the motions were enough to bring the Brit to his feet. He was unstable, and swaying a little, but he was on his feet. It was weird, Francis could have sworn Arthur was shorter…

Arthur took one hand away and rested it on Francis' cheek with a smile, catching his breath before whispering, "Well, hello there, love."

Francis couldn't help but grin widely as searched for something to say in his speechlessness. Eventually he settled on, "_Bonjour."_

Arthur let out a breath of laughter before his body began to shake with weakness. Arthur's smile quickly faded, "Francis." He said in a warning tone.

Francis was snapped out of the bliss and pride he felt as he immediately realized that Arthur probably couldn't hold this for much longer, so quickly and carefully, he helped Arthur sit back down before he ended up on the floor. After Arthur was back in his chair, Francis knelt down between Arthur's legs, leaned forward and hugged him, "I am so proud of you!"

Arthur patted his back weakly, "Oh, I can't even stand that long." He said, panting from exhaustion.

Francis broke away, not believing the humbleness - or self criticism - that Arthur had, "What are you talking about? This is a milestone! I bet you'll be walking in no time!" Arthur didn't reply, but he did earn a smile from the Englishman, so to make it even better, Francis added, "We should celebrate this! I know, we can go to an early dinner with the boys after we pick the up from school! How does that sound?"

Arthur let out a small breath, "Sounds brilliant, but I think I'm going to take a short nap while I have the time now."

Francis raised his eyebrows, "This napping thing is becoming a habit, I see." He teased.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Well, you lose all the muscles in your body to atrophy and learn how to stand again without getting tired out."

"I was kidding." Francis stated before landing a kiss on the bridge of Arthur's nose and stood, "Do you need help?"

Arthur kicked his foot rests back into place, "No. I can get in and out of the bed by myself now."

Francis chuckled as Arthur rolled away, "You're scaring me, Arthur. The more mobile you get, the better chance there is of you running away."

"If I wanted to run away, I would just call Lukas, he'd take me anywhere I needed to go without any questions."

Francis sat on the couch, "Thanks for the reassurance, _Cher._"

Arthur disappeared into the hallway, "You're welcome, see you later."

"Sleep well." Francis called after him.

Then, Francis was left with his thoughts, which bounced from Gilbert's health and Arthur's recovery. He adjusted uncomfortably and decided that his head spinning would do no good, so he reached for his laptop and got to work, clearing his throat to take away a small itch in it as he did.

…

_A Few Days Later_

…

"Well, I'll be in the flowerbed if you need me." Francis said after a short cough.

Arthur sighed, the man had been ignoring his worsening cough for two and a half days now, "Maybe you should hold off on that."

Francis turned to him, his hand on the front door handle, "Why?"

_Why? Oh, only the thing I've been nagging you about,_ Arthur thought before he spoke, "For the last time, you are coming down with something."

Francis waved him off, "I'm fine, it's probably just allergies."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Sounds to me like it's in your chest."

Francis let out a annoyed sigh, "I'm in the flowerbed if you need me." He repeated before stepping through the door and closing it behind him.

Arthur huffed. As sweet of a man Francis was, he sure could be stubborn. For the last week or so, the Frenchman had been going from one store to another, buying the perfect flowers for the flowerbed outside, saying that he would finally fill it up and they would have the most beautiful house on the street. But, that was before Francis had come down with something that he has been passing off as allergies that Antonio, over the phone, said that he never had. Arthur really didn't think much of until last night when he woke up to see Francis' side of the bed empty. Apparently, laying down makes the cough worse, so he slept on the couch so Arthur could sleep.

So, it has been getting worse, and with Gilbert in the hospital still, Arthur's paranoia was reasonable.

_You worry too much,_ an inside voice of his argued. Which, wasn't far off from the truth, according to Kate, Lukas, Drac, Francis, Alfred, Lain, and everyone else that he knows, he worries too much.

Arthur considered going out on the porch and reading, just keep an eye on Francis, but, Francis can read him well, and would know that he wasn't just out there to read, which would eventually lead into a fight because Francis _hates_ it when people don't trust him, especially when they show it right to his face. Not to mention that he is already acting stubborn, which would only make his temper worse… In the end, it wasn't worth it.

Arthur huffed again, if Francis really felt bad, he would just have to give up his pride and come in himself.

But, no matter, because the book part of the previous idea did sound good. So, Arthur got his book from the coffee table and set it on the little stand by the couch. He was just about to transfer himself to the couch when he almost forgot the best thing that goes with a book: Tea.

He rolled himself through the dining room and into the kitchen, before wondering where exactly to start the task, which was an important decision considering he was in a wheelchair. The kettle was already on the stove, so that part was done. So, how about the cup, then? If he couldn't reach the cup in the cabinet, then he won't bother with the rest. Made enough sense to him. He rolled to the cabinet and opened it before looking for the cup that would be easiest to reach. He had to stretch, but he successfully was able to get the cup without knocking it over and breaking it.

Now, the tea bags, which, were above the cups. Arthur sat there, debating. He could stand now, for a short time, but could he reach the box and sit back down before his legs gave out? It was a bad idea. Not to mention if he did succeed, he would have to put the box back, hide any evidence that he had drank tea in the first place, because god knows what Francis would say if Arthur attempted a stunt like that.

But then again, it was only a lecture, it's not like Francis would yell at him, Arthur couldn't recall a time that Francis raised his voice in honest anger at all. And of course Arthur could just promise not to do it again, and say that Francis was right because in all honesty, it was a stupid idea.

But, Arthur was willing to try anyway. After all, why not stand when you have the ability to? He would do just fine.

After he had convinced himself, Arthur kicked the foot rests to the side, set his feet on the floor, gripped the armrests tightly, and slowly, with a shaking body, lifted himself up. He grabbed the counter and pulled himself to a standing position before taking a long inhale and looking up where the tea bags were. He thought he had heard something as he took one hand off of the counter, but ignored it, instead he took a moment to stabilize himself, then reached for the box.

His body began to shake more with weakness, and he could feel his body begin to give out. Despite all the strength he tried to keep, slowly his muscles became too exhausted. Well, he was wrong, he couldn't reach the tea bags, so it would be best if he sat back down before he fell down.

He lowered himself back into the chair… That seemed to have disappeared. It was in the middle of falling back when Arthur realized that he had forgotten to put the brakes on his wheelchair, and the noise from earlier was probably it rolling back further into the kitchen, out of reach.

Arthur fell onto his back and hit his head on the tile floor under him. His heart pounded from the scare the fall gave him, but as he laid there, breathing slowly and doing a self-check, he had come to the conclusion that he wasn't hurt, save for the wicked headache and the broken cup next to him.

Well this was a whole lot worse than what he thought. Arthur could almost hear Francis scolding him. _I told you if you needed anything I was just outside. Why didn't you ask me to help you?_ Then again, if he was in a relationship with a man who scolded that nicely, then he should count himself lucky.

_But, Francis still didn't have to know about this right? All I have to do is get into my chair. I have practiced that incase I fell out of it, it was one of the first things I learned once I could sit upright._

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows, trying to locate his wheelchair, which hopefully wasn't too far, and when he did spot it he realized that it was on the other side of the kitchen. Once again, his life has shown that hope does nothing but disappoint him later. This was because crawling was an extremely difficult task that involved the entire body, and Arthur wasn't particularly good at those tasks yet. In fact he _knew_ he couldn't make it that far.

He may as well not hurt himself more by forcing himself to do something that he probably won't be physically able to achieve.

It wasn't fair. This isn't how you usually see it. Usually the person can force himself to succeed, just by trying a little harder, by breaking through his own limits. It's how you see it in the films, books and tv shows. But this is reality. The real world doesn't work like that. In the real world, Arthur's muscles had a three year break, and even with the nurses moving his body as his mind was away, it didn't amount to anything compared to the atrophy. Arthur's muscles were simply too weak.

God, how long had it been? He started physical therapy in late December, so…

_Six months._ It had been half a year and he was just now standing. No, he failed at that. He couldn't even count it, so he was _working on_ standing. Just like he was able to push himself to his hands and knees, it was only a smaller step to a much a more larger task, like crawling. Sure, he was beginning to stand now, but then he had to walk, then run… How long was it going to take? It wasn't just gaining to strength to walk, it was learning how to walk too, which was hard for adults because their brains aren't wired to learn that anymore, because they usually already know how to.

Arthur gave a defeated sigh as he raised his hands and covered his face, feeling too helpless to sit up and scoot himself to a counter lean on. That was when he heard Black Jack meow at him. Well, at least he wasn't completely alone.

Arthur turned his head and held out his hand, "Come here, boy." He said quietly before clicking his tongue. The young cat happily jogged over, wanting attention. Arthur gently pet him, which was rewarded with purring and more meowing. Arthur let himself chuckle, "Talkative today, aren't you?"

But, eventually, just as cats do, little Black Jack lost interest and walked off, ignoring Arthur's attempts to bring him back over. Arthur didn't know how long he laid on the floor, but it was long enough for his back to start hurting, and after a while, the pain got too much to bear. Being careful of the broken pieces of the cup, he sat up, slowly turned himself around, and leaned his back on the counter. It was much more comfortable, at least until his butt went numb.

Finally, the front door opened, and he could hear Francis walking around, "_Cher?"_ He called, before a hard cough.

Arthur ignored the cough, "In the kitchen!"

"Oh, you should see the flowerbed. I'll have to finish it tomorrow, but it already looks so-"

Arthur interrupted, "That's great, love, but could you come here? I need your help."

Francis was silent for a short moment, "Well, you don't have to be rude about it." Francis rambled at Arthur heard him make his way through the house, "You know for someone who calls himself a gentleman, you sure can-" Francis stepped through the doorway and gasped when he saw the scene, "What happened?"

"I, uh…" Arthur tried to start.

"Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?" Francis cut in.

Arthur shook his head, "No, no. I'm fine."

Francis deflated with relief, "Oh, _dieu merci._ What happened?"

This was it. Time to give up his pride, "Well, I wanted to make tea, but the tea bags were out of reach and… I, uh, stood, and, well… Fell."

Francis crouched down a mix of concern and irritation on his face, "Why didn't you ask for help? I was just outside."

_Because I want to do things by myself. I can't do anything by myself, and it makes me feel helpless._ Arthur shrugged, "I guess I got too cocky from the other day and thought I could manage."

Francis looked at him for a long moment before sighing, coughing, and standing up, "I'll help you back into your chair in a moment. I'm going to pick up the broken cup first. I'll get the broom and dustpan, I'll be right back."

Arthur said nothing as Francis left the kitchen, he just laid his head back on the counter behind him and closed his eyes.

It was strange to say, but when it came to his recovery, Arthur rarely felt any better.

…

_The Next Week_

…

The more Francis lived with Arthur the more he seemed to be the '_do as I say, not as I do'_ kind of person.

Francis could admit it himself that he was sick. There was no problem there. It had been just over a week when he started showing symptoms, and it had only gotten worse from there. Well, sort of. In the past few days, Francis hadn't gotten worse, or better. Francis took this as a good sign, knowing how his own body works. It was probably nothing more than a chest cold, and with some over-the-counter cough suppressants, he should be good as new in a few days. So, no problem there either, at least to him.

The problem was that he refused to let this chest cold get in the way of going out and enjoying life. Apparently, Arthur wasn't going to have any of it, which is extremely hypocritical, considering how _he_ has been acting during _his_ whole recovery. Hell, getting Brit to go to sleep when he was aware enough to argue even in the slightest was a freaking nightmare, let alone what happened in the kitchen last week.

With that event in mind, it was Francis' turn to retort, "You have no room to talk." Arthur opened his mouth, but Francis didn't let him speak, "Must I remind you what happened last week?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "No, I know it perfectly well, you went into the flowerbed and spent an hour or so making yourself worse."

Francis crossed his arms, "And where were you?"

Arthur hesitated, "Don-don't turn the subject on me!"

"You could have hurt yourself!" Francis scolded.

Arthur raised his voice and gestured to him, "You're hurting yourself now!"

Francis sighed some of his anger away, making sure to sound reassuring, "Arthur, it's just a chest cold."

Arthur shrugged, "Okay, you might be right. But it's not getting any better." Arthur leaned forward in his chair and spoke hardly and slowly, "Getting sick and not getting better is a red flag to something more serious."

"Arthur, my lungs are already damaged as it is," Francis began to explain, "It's going to take me longer to get over this."

Arthur nodded, "You're right, your lungs are damaged. Smoke ventilation took a decade or so off your lifespan, right? Of course, that's _if_ you don't develop a fatal lung disease."

Francis felt a pang of fear in his heart, "Arthur-"

Arthur only continued, his voice raising again gradually, "What? You want me to be more blunt? The last person I knew that got sick and didn't get better was Kate. And what did the doctors find when she was tested? Leukemia."

Francis' breath hitched, sending him into a coughing fit. Francis turned his head away and coughed into his fist, knowing that this did not look good for his argument, especially since it was obviously worse than usual. But, his thoughts on the argument ended when, for the first time he was sick, felt something rattle in his lungs. Even when the fit was over, he could still feel it rattle with every breath. Now he was concerned.

He couldn't just take the rattling, though, so he figured that he would try to cough it up. Francis forcefully coughed hard into his fist, trying to shake whatever it was out of his lungs.

"Francis?" Arthur said, his voice suddenly laced with concern that borderlined with fear.

Francis was about to give some sign that he was alright, but then he lost control of his fit, and his coughs only got harder. Eventually, his damaged lungs couldn't take it, and has chest started to quickly tighten. Now he was scared.

His fear only got worse when he found himself becoming extremely dizzy. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, grabbing the coffee table as he realized that he was becoming weaker by the second.

"Francis! Are you-"

It was right in the middle of Arthur's sentence when Francis was able to get a good breath into himself, and he wasn't going to waste it, "Nine-nine-nine."

"What?" Arthur's exclamation seemed to be out of disbelief rather than a prompt to repeat, but even if it was, Francis didn't have the breath to speak again. Gratefully, Arthur wheeled his chair a few feet to the coffee table and grabbed the phone that laid on it.

When he realized that he couldn't keep himself upright anymore, Francis laid down on his right side as he coughs became lighter. He hoped that his chest would loosen, but even with more time to breathe in between in coughs, his chest only seemed to slowly cut itself off from his windpipe. Now he was panicking.

Francis listened to Arthur talk on the phone, telling the operator on the other end that what was happening "seemed to be some respiratory attack" before giving their names and address. Francis looked over just in time to see Arthur put down the phone and wheel himself over, "C'mon," Arthur said calmly, pushing on Francis' left shoulder, helping him on his back, "Lay on your back and stretch your arms out away from you. It'll make it easier to breathe."

Francis did what he was told, grateful that he had enough energy to. He still felt like he was wheezing through the thinnest straw in the world, but the advice did make a little difference, and in this case, a little was a lot.

Arthur picked up Francis' hand and rubbed it in his, "The ambulance is on it's way. You're going to be just fine.

Francis could feel himself become weaker and weaker, and eventually, his mind began to drift somewhere else.

It felt like an eternity later, but Francis was becoming aware of some kind of commotion around him. His vision began to clear as he heard someone say, "Sir? Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?"

Francis then realized the wonderful feeling of a loose chest. It still felt like there was something heavy on him, but it was so much easier to breathe. He took this chance to take a few deep breaths before focusing on a man above him, "Francis."

"Oh, thank god."

Francis looked over when he heard Arthur sound so distressed, and his worry grew when he saw him. He looked like he had been crying. That's when something clicked in his head. "No," He said in disbelief as he looked back to the paramedic, afraid to ask his next question, "Did I… Stop breathing?"

The paramedic shook his head, "No, sir, you did not stop breathing, but your breathing rate dropped dramatically." He said, as he and other paramedics lifted Francis onto a gurney, "You will be taken into the hospital for further treatment and observation at the least."

"But-" Francis argued, craning his neck so he could see Arthur as they began to carry him away, "Arthur!" He meant to call the name, but it came out as a horse rasp.

"I'll meet you there! Don't worry. I'm right behind you." He heard Arthur reply in a reassuring tone.

They carried him into the ambulance, the alarm blaring loud enough to make Francis flinch. "Please stay calm, sir." was someone's response when he did, but he didn't really listen. All he did was lay there for the ride in silence, not believing that, for the millionth time in his life, he was going to sit in a hospital.

…

_Later_

…

Arthur practically worried himself sick as he waited for Lain. There had been no news on Francis while he sat on the porch, fiddling with his phone, but he supposed no news was good news at that point. In fact, if the hospital had called him while he was so restless like that, he was sure that it would send him into a panic attack.

It took almost two hours for Arthur to get to the hospital, and he was wasting no more time. He left Lain's car in a hurry, giving the Scot specific instructions to pick up the boys from school and not to tell them what happened. Lain asked what he should tell them, but Arthur left through the hospital doors, knowing that Lain could probably figure it out.

He sped through the hallways, trying to think of what to expect. Francis was able to have visitors, so that had to be good. He was in a recovery room, which was extremely relieving. He wasn't off somewhere being tested at the moment, so that also looked good, maybe they found out what exactly had caused the terrible respiratory attack, _if_ it even was a respiratory attack.

The door to room 213 was wide open, which was another good sign. When Arthur wheeled in, he saw Francis sitting up in his bed with a simple looking oxygen mask. He looked up at the tv across from him, chuckling lightly. Arthur never felt so relieved in his life, seeing Francis out of his intense daze and acting like himself relaxed him.

It was then when Francis noticed him. He glanced over and spoke, his voice low and rough from the coughing, Arthur could only imagine what the poor man's throat felt like. "You should see these soap operas," He said before looking back at the tv with another chuckle, "The acting is so horrible. It's kinda funny."

Arthur didn't comment. Instead, he wheeled over to the bed, "How are you feeling?"

Francis gave a reassuring smile, "Oh, I'm only feeling tired now. Well, besides the flu symptoms, at least."

There was a long silence before Arthur decided to ask the big question, "Have they figured out what happened?"

Francis coughed lightly, "Well, you were right, it was a respiratory attack."

"What caused it?"

Francis shrugged, "I don't know. The doctor listened to my chest, and I had a chest x-ray, but I haven't gotten results yet. It shouldn't take much longer, though. Any minute, according to the nurse that checked on me before you came in."

Arthur nodded in understanding, "So, how is your chest?"

Francis gave that stupid smile that he smiled when he was teasing, "Just enough hair on it to be sexy."

Although it was nice to hear him joking as he always was, Arthur wasn't really in the mood. He rolled his eyes, "_Francis."_ He said in a scolding tone.

Francis laughed a little, which turned to coughing, but he quickly got over it before clearing his throat, "It feels a little heavy, but just enough to know that there's something in my lungs."

Arthur narrowed his eyebrows, "What do you mean?"

Francis glanced up at the ceiling as if try to find the right words, "Like a chest cold, or maybe an infection."

Arthur sighed as if it would take his stress away and put his head in his hands, trying to figure out how to calm his nerves. "But," Francis started, gaining Arthur's attention again, "Besides the extra tiredness, I don't feel any different from yesterday."

Arthur looked up at him, "Wait. Your chest felt heavy yesterday?" If Francis hadn't told him about that just because of his stupid pride, Arthur didn't know what he would do to him.

Francis gave a guilty look, "I didn't really notice."

Arthur blinked at him, not really believing what he just heard, "How the hell didn't you notice that it was harder to breathe?"

Francis shrugged as he stammered until he found answer, "I-I don't know. I'm sick and my whole body feels off and-"

"Oh, yes," Arthur interrupted, "Because when I', sick-"

Francis cut him off, a fearful expression beginning to appear on his face, "Can I please not have your sarcasm right now? If you think you're stressed, then you should know how I feel. I mean, I…"

"Almost died?" Arthur finished.

Francis took a long pause, his eyes casted down to his lap, "_Oui…"_

Arthur took a staggering sigh at the memory, swallowing through a dry throat as he forcibly kept his composure, and patted Francis' hand comfortingly, "Alright, alright, I'm sorry." He said calmly. When Francis didn't even seem to move at his words, Arthur reached, moved Francis' hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear, "Hey." He only continued when Francis looked at him, "We'll be okay."

Francis gave a small smile and went to say something, but was interrupted by the doctor walking in, "Mr. Bonnefoy, and mister…"

"Kirkland." Arthur answered.

The doctor nodded, "Nice to see you." He looked to Francis, "We took a look at your x-ray, and I have some good news, and some bad news."

Arthur's stomach flipped as Francis answered, "What's the good news? I could really use some of that now."

"Well," The doctor began, "There are no tumors or lumps that we found, but we did find some past damage." He looked down at the clipboard in his hand, "But, according to you medical records, that was from smoke ventilation in an apartment fire?"

"Yes." Francis confirmed.

The doctor nodded again, wrote something on the clipboard, and continued, "Alright, the bad news might even be good news, considering the simple answer and medications we have for it, but, when we looked at your x-ray, we found walking pneumonia."

"Walking pneumonia?" Francis asked as Arthur let out a sigh of relief.

"Walking pneumonia is when someone experiences cold and flu like symptoms instead of pneumonia symptoms. Usually when they don't get better, they tell their doctor that their cough is worse, or their chest is heavy, and an x-ray will be done, and they'll be treated." The doctor explained.

Francis gave a guilty glance at Arthur before getting to the question of the day, "But what about the respiratory attack?"

The doctor nodded again, "the reason that happened is because of the damage to your lungs. They couldn't take the coughing, and it turned into a respiratory attack."

Francis nodded slowly in understanding, and after a long silence, Arthur asked, "So, what's the plan?"

The doctor began scribbling on his clipboard again, "I will prescribe you cough suppressants and antibiotics, and maybe something to help you sleep at night if the coughing keeps you up, but we'll see about that later. Meanwhile, you will stay here on observation for at least two nights. If you have another attack, we want it to be here, where we can help you." He took a long pause as he finished writing and put his pen in his pocket, "Are there any questions?"

Arthur and Francis looked at each other before looking back to the doctor, "I don't think so." Francis said.

The doctor began to make his way out, "Alright, if there are any, just let me know."

"Okay." They both said at the same time as the doctor left.

Once he was gone, Arthur scoffed, "He sure was in a hurry."

"He probably has other patients to get to." Francis explained.

Arthur gave him an irritated look, "That doesn't mean he gets to hurry though information."

"What's going on with the boys?" Francis asked, changing the subject a little too obviously.

Arthur could rant about the doctor, but instead he decided to forget about it for the moment, "Lain picked them up. That's why it took me so long to get here, I had to wait for him."

Francis chuckled, "You need to find friends in this country."

"I do, they were all working." Arthur defended, "Besides, Lain is my emergency contact, their school knows it, and he wouldn't run into any troubles picking them out. As paranoid as people are, Lukas or Ludwig would have gotten arrested for attempting a kidnapping or something."

"But, Ludwig is my emergency contact."

Arthur cocked his head to the side, "He is?"

Francis nodded, "_Oui_, the hospital called him, but since he's at work, they got his answering machine. When he called back, I was well enough, and they let me talk to him. It took me forever to convince him not to come out here. He has enough troubles with Gilbert."

"Yeah," Arthur agreed, "I think I am going to call Lain, and tell him what's going on. Maybe he and the boys could come and visit in a couple or hours."

"Why hours? They should come now."

Arthur sighed, "Because the key to pneumonia is rest, rest, more rest, and when you're not resting. Do you know what you do?"

Francis chuckled, "Rest?"

Arthur let out a breath of laughter, "Yes. So sleep. I am going to go outside to get some air, and call Lain and, now that I think about it, I should call Ludwig too and let him know that you're okay."

A look of realization hit Francis, "Oh, yes, please call him. He'll worry himself sick if you don't."

"Don't worry, I will." Arthur said as he began to turn his chair around, "I am closing your door. Get some sleep." He ordered.

"Yes, Captain." Francis answered.

…

…

…

…

Translations:

Quoi? (French)- What?

Dieu Merci (French) Thank God

Other notes:

I don't really have any other notes, but there aren't many chapters left! About five or so? We'll see. Happy summer!

And Happy Late Birthday to my long-time internet friend, FeliksLukasiewicz00


	16. Chapter 16

…

_Mid July_

…

Arthur didn't know it when he got out of bed this morning, but today would be the worst day he would have in a long time, and that was saying a lot. It really shouldn't had been either. He was supposed to get up, have lunch with Lain, see the doctor, get good news, and come home to his family and have a good day with them. In retrospect, today wasn't a complete disaster. He did get up this morning, have lunch with his brother, and see the doctor, but it all went downhill from there.

He told Lain that the appointment went well, that he was stronger than the last appointment, everything was normal, and he was progressing to living like he used to, almost as if he had never been in a coma. Long story, short, he lied to his brother. How Lain didn't catch the lie, he would never know.

Strange, though, he was surprised by the bad news, and looking back, he had expected everything to just fall back into place someday. That one day, he would go on holiday and walk the streets of Paris with Francis, where the only stress in the world be making sure that the boys didn't get lost in the crowd. And of course, they would have a perfect plan of what to do if that happened and he and Francis would find the boys chatting with some Frenchwoman who was nice enough to help them.

He would return to normal like the car crash never happened… Like magic!

But, for the millionth time, Arthur was shown that life doesn't work like that. There were no picture-perfect endings, and it didn't matter how hard he would try, there was no happily ever after.

It wasn't the bad news that made Arthur worry more. Sure, the news depressed him and practically crushed his dreams, but it was the way the doctor said it, almost as if Arthur should have already known about it, and it left Arthur wondering if the doctor was right, maybe he should have. But, Arthur could never recall anyone telling him. The check-up doctor didn't, neither did Doctor Ralph, or his physical therapist. Perhaps one of them had and he forgot. God, he had forgetting a lot of things lately, including Matthew's birthday, something that Francis swore he had mentioned before.

He was panicking. Is his memory getting worse, or is he just noticing it more? What if his memory keeps getting worse and he ends up with full-blown amnesia? Is he worrying too much? Is he just paranoid? Is it stressed induced? Maybe the more stressed he gets, the worse his memory is. Can memory work like an anxiety disorder like that? Maybe he should just talk to Lukas.

Yeah, that's a good idea. Talk to Lukas. He's honest, doesn't sugar coat anything, and knows a lot about these kinds of things. Already feeling a little relieved of just having some plan of action, Arthur sighed.

"Okay, that has to be the tenth time you've sighed in the last five minutes."

Arthur glanced at Lain in the driver's seat before looking forward, realizing that they were turning into Francis' neighborhood, "Sorry, lost in thought."

"What were you thinking about?" Lain asked, sounding concerned.

Time to make something up, "Oh, uh, I was thinking that maybe Francis, the boys, and I should go somewhere before the summer ends."

"Oh," Lain responded, "Where were you thinking about?"

Arthur shrugged, "I don't know, Francis mentioned Paris a while ago, but with the end of July coming, we may not have time for it in a spur-of-the-moment fashion."

Lain nodded in agreement as he pulled into the driveway, "I suppose that's right, maybe somewhere in the British Isles, then."

Arthur decided not to continue the fake conversation, and instead of commenting more, Lain parked the car and stepped out of his door. Arthur opened his, and turned so his legs were sticking out as he waited for his brother to get the wheelchair and help him into it. Once that was done, Lain walked around the front of his car, Arthur right behind him, "Do you need help inside?"

"No, I can get up the ramp and unlock the door by myself." Arthur responded in a rude tone that he didn't mean to speak in.

Lain huffed, "I was just offering you help." After that, he got back into the car without another word, and began backing out of the driveway.

Arthur thought about waving him back, but decided not to, after all, he had news for Francis. So he turned and started up the ramp, before taking out his keys and unlocking the door. He pushed the door wide open so he could make it through and closed it behind him when he did. He rolled into the living room to see Francis on the couch, his head in his hands.

"What's the matter? Got a headache?" He guessed.

But, when Francis picked up his head, Arthur saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

…

_Three days later…_

…

Papa was sad.

Matthew couldn't figure out why. Although he was always good at reading others, he only knew what people would tell him, which was apparently nothing. Papa was fine, he wasn't sad, he was tired, or that's what Papa would tell him, but Matthew knew better. He wanted to call his father out on his lies, but Papa, as sweet as he is, can be stubborn sometimes.

What was worse: Papa seemed to get sadder and sadder as the week went on, and eventually, Matthew noticed that Arthur was sad too. It was strange, because it was hard for Matthew pick up on. He finally concluded that it was because Arthur was better at faking a smile and holding back his "tiredness". But it was sad to think that way, because people always say that practice makes perfect.

After two days, Matthew assumed that it was probably grown up business. Perhaps something was going on with what they call "politics", something that Matthew didn't really understand. Or, maybe it had to do with Arthur's recovery. Arthur wasn't going to teach as soon as he wanted, so maybe he missed the classroom and Papa is just sympathetic.

It wasn't until the third day when Matthew realized that something was very wrong, because it wasn't until the third day when they all visited Gilbert in the hospital. Not only were Papa and Arthur sad, but Ludwig was. _Ludwig was sad._ A tall, intimidating man who Matthew saw as invincible was sad.

But, despite all of that, the worst part was Gilbert. Matthew had visited him a few times, but his last visit was last week, and Gilbert looked and sounded a lot worse than last week. He coughed a lot, but his coughs weren't hard, but it wasn't because Gilbert was getting better, it was because Gilbert didn't have the strength to. He acted like his normal self, but not at the same time. His sense of humor and his light hearted jokes where the same, but the tone in his voice and smile were sad, almost as if he were sharing distant memories soon to be forgotten.

The worst part was when Papa put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Alright, you're looking very tired. It's best that we head home so you can rest, Gil."

Matthew watched everyone say their goodbyes, all of them firm and heartfelt, except for Alfred, who's goodbye was quick and casual. Matthew will never understand how Alfred could be so oblivious to how strange and wrong all of this was.

Finally, Papa turned to him, his voice almost empty, "Matthew, aren't you going to say 'goodbye'?"

The pit in his stomach suddenly clenched, and for a moment, he was sure that he was going to throw up. But, the feeling passed just enough for him to walk forward to Gilbert's bed, taking his hand almost on reflex, "Goodbye, Gilbert."

"Bye, Matt," He said, before taking a few breaths, "You be good to Francis and Arthur, you hear?"

Matthew hesitated, a sense of dread coming over him, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Gilbert nodded, "And you and Alfred look out for each other, okay?"

_This isn't good, something is wrong,_ An inside voice told him, but instead of asking questions he just agreed in a small voice, "Okay."

Gilbert was silent for a moment until he chuckled sadly, "Oh, what am I worried about? You're a good kid."

Matthew glanced away, confused, "Thank you?" Then, he got a bright idea, "Can I spend the night here with you and Ludwig like I did that one time?"

Gilbert shook his head, "No, no. I wasn't nearly as sick then, and since I'm worse this time, I'll need more rest. Do you remember what I taught you about lung infections?"

"The infection takes up room in your lungs, so there's less room for air." Matthew recalled before reassuring him, "I won't keep you up, I'll still let you sleep."

"No, Matthew," Papa said, "It's time to go."

Matthew paused, "I'll see you later, right?" He said, his statement sounding like a question.

Gilbert gave a sad smile, let go of his hand, reached up and tucked some of Matthew's hair behind his ear, "Yeah, I'll see you later, Birdie."

_Don't leave,_ the inside voice told him, _Something bad is going to happen._

Papa took a hold of Matthew's had gently, "C'mon, _Cher,_ it's time to go." He repeated, his voice sounding broken.

The two of them turned to the door just as Gilbert said, "_Au Revoir."_

Papa looked over his shoulder, "_Auf Wiedersehen, _Gilbert."

Matthew could literally feel himself pale as he began to shake when they walked through the door. They followed Arthur and Alfred through the hallways, dodging others as they passed. It was when they were in the lift when Matthew looked up at Papa, who was wiping his face.

"What wrong?" Matthew asked quietly, hoping that he would get a honest answer.

Papa shook his head, "Nothing, I'm just worried about him. I hate to see him this ill."

Matthew hesitated his next question, "Is he gonna get better?"

Papa shifted uncomfortably as he glanced down at Arthur, "_Oui,_ he'll- he'll be fine."

That not what everyone else said while they were in the room. Sure, they didn't way that Gilbert wasn't going to get better outright, but if Gilbert was going to be fine, then why was everyone so sad?

Matthew felt his throat go dry as he tightened his grip on Papa's hand, "I don't understand."

Papa was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his voice breaking again, "Me either."

…

_Two Days Later_

…

Black Jack purred as Matthew stroked his fur, humming to himself. The cat rolled on his back, exposing his belly, and gently, Matthew scratched it, "You're so cute." He said quietly as Papa's phone went off in the other room.

"Hey, how come he doesn't scratch you?" Alfred asked from his seat on the couch.

Matthew looked up at him, patting Black Jack's rib cage, "If you don't scratch his belly too hard he won't get mad."

"I still don't forgive him." Alfred grumbled.

"Are you sure?" Matthew teased, "Because you let him sleep on your pillow last night."

Alfred immediately protested, "Hey, he came in while I was asleep! I didn't _let_ him on my pillow! He _stole _it in the middle of the night!"

"Boys," Papa said as he entered the living room, interrupting their bickering. He looked sadder than Matthew had ever seen him, he wasn't even trying to fake a smile anymore. He paused as he rubbed his eyes before sighing and looking back at them, "Kiku's father called. He Kiku was wondering if you two would like to go over and spend the night."

Alfred gasped, "Really? Can we?"

Papa nodded, "_Oui,_ it's already been arranged. Go get your things, quickly, they're expecting you."

"C'mon, Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed, running past him.

Matthew looked up at his father for a long moment, realizing that something didn't feel right, but didn't know how to place it. After a moment, Papa cocked his head, narrowing his eyebrows in concern, "Everything alright?"

Matthew could ask him that question, and a part of him _really_ wanted to turn it around on him, but he knew Papa would just use the same excuse of not getting enough sleep. He wasn't sad, he was tired. Or, so he said. Knowing that it wouldn't win at this, Matthew just got up from his spot on the floor, "No, I'm fine."

Papa turned into the other room, "Alright, but hurry, I told Yao that we would be there soon.

Matthew picked up his pace in the hallway, "Okay."

If it wasn't Papa's expression that told him that something was off, arriving at Kiku's house did. Papa had walked them to the door, but didn't stay to chat with Mr. Yao like he usually would. Instead, he apologized for something that he didn't directly say, said a million 'thank yous', told them goodbye, and left with Arthur, who normally would have just stayed at the house if Papa was just dropping them off and coming back to the house.

But, nothing else that night said that something was wrong. Mr. Yao was nice, and a very good cook, they played outside with Kiku and his dog, and after dinner, they all took turns playing video games before falling asleep to a movie. By the end of it, Matthew was sure that this was just a pleasant surprise.

Papa picked them up that morning, earlier than the usual. He looked exhausted, almost as if he had stayed up all night running a marathon, but he tried to keep a conversation going while he drove them home, asking the usual 'What did you guys do?' and 'Did you have a good time?'.

It was about an hour and a half after they got home when Papa and Arthur entered their room. They looked at each other cautiously before Arthur said in a very gentle voice, "Boys, we have some terrible news."

In a way, Matthew knew that they were going to hear that phrase soon, but it was Alfred who was taken by surprise, "What? What is it?"

"Yesterday," Arthur started with a sigh, "We asked Yao if you two could spend the night there because, um, I…" Them man put his head in his hands, trying desperately to find words.

"Because we got a call from Ludwig," Papa picked up, tears in his eyes, "He told us that, um," He paused for a moment before saying it without sugar coating it, "That Gilbert passed away."

When Arthur was in his coma, Matthew say people get hurt, not in a physical way, but emotionally. He, personally hadn't been that close to Arthur at the time, so most of his own sadness came from how the others were. Papa was depressed, Alfred was angry and getting in trouble all the time, Lain always looked like he wanted to punch something and more came with Lukas, Drac, and Ludwig, who were all Arthur's friends. Matthew did the best he could to help everyone, even asking Papa if he wanted to talk to Toris, his therapist once, but, as a child, there wasn't much he could do.

But, this time it was different. Because this time, Matthew felt himself shatter.

…

…

…

…

Translations:

Au Revoir- (French) Goodbye

Auf Wiedersehen - (German) Goodbye

Author's Note:

Shorter chapter, thought it would be best if I ripped it off like a band aid.

P.S. I'm sorry


	17. Chapter 17

…

_Early September_

…

Matthew hadn't spoken since.

But, that was okay, Francis guessed, the spell would break eventually. You just can't go though life choosingly mute, right? Sadly, people did live like that, even if Francis wanted to ignore that fact to keep some hope. But, after a month and a half, it hit Francis that this wouldn't be easy… Just like everything else.

It was so strange and surreal like a dream, like a _nightmare._ Matthew had always spoken to him. Even when he was little and scared of him, he still said little sentences here and there, giving answers to simple questions that Francis would ask. He also became comfortable with Alfred very quickly, but Matthew hadn't said a word to him either.

Francis was at a loss. He had no idea what to do about this. He kept asking questions, giving Matthew the opportunity to answer, but he never did. He gives him affection and comfort, letting him know that Papa is there for him. He says that he loves him, and Matthew still says silent, and _oh god_ that hurts. What else could he do? He can't _make him _speak through a demand, how much trust would he lose if he were to do that?

_Trust_, a subject that Matthew had always struggled with thanks to his "father". Gilbert had helped him come out of his shell of fear, showing him that most people meant no harm. Francis could remember the first time Matthew had met the albino, and he never wanted to hit Gilbert more than that moment. He told Gilbert to be careful with Matthew since he was so jumpy and scared. Against his own word, Gilbert bent down to Matthew's level, patted him roughly on the shoulder, and started talking as loud as he always does. Matthew looked like he was going to cry the first few times he encountered Gilbert, but before Francis knew it, Matthew was running up to the albino, asking him to pick him up, and laughing whenever Gilbert would play rough with him.

Sure, Francis showed Matthew that he had nothing to be afraid of, but Gilbert taught him trust, and now, Gilbert was gone, so Matthew's trust in the world was too. Or at least, that's what Matthew's therapist said, and Francis had to admit, it made sense.

_Okay, so they had found a likely explanation, now what?_

Francis but his head in his hands with a sigh, perhaps Toris would have some news, good or bad. Just as that crossed his mind, the door to Toris' office opened, and Matthew came walking out, eyes casted to the floor. Francis forced at soft smile, "How did it go?" He asked as the boy walked up. Matthew didn't answer, not that Francis expected any different.

"May I speak to you for a moment?"

Francis looked up at Toris, "Uh, yeah," He turned back to his son, "Matthew, why don't you sit down?" Matthew only gave a small nod before sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. "I'll be right back." Francis reminded before following Toris into this office, cracking the door as he entered.

"There is something that I have to confess to you." Toris then said, a sad look on his face.

Francis felt his heart sink, "Is there something wrong?"

"Well, it has been a month and a half since his first appointment I have had with him while he is mute," Toris started, "And I haven't gotten anywhere."

Francis knew exactly where this was going, "You're telling me that there's nothing you can do."

Toris deflated, "I have tried everything in my power, but I-"

"What? Now you're giving up on him?" Francis interrupted, making sure to show the unbelievable amount of anger that he was feeling in his voice.

Toris stumbled on his words, "Well, I-no, no, th-that's not what I'm saying." Sounded like denial, but Francis let him continue, "What I mean is that I specialize in a certain field, and that is child abuse, a subject that I know all too well, and that's why I specialize in it, because I want to help children that went through the same thing as I did." He ran his fingers through his long hair, "I'm a psychologist, and know how to help with personal loss, but it isn't my specialty."

They were both silent for a long moment before Francis asked, "And?"

Toris nodded, getting back on track, "And, I don't want to waste your time just so I get my money. I'm not like that, and you've been with me long enough to know that. What I'm saying is that I'm not the right one Matthew should talk to."

Francis scoffed, "So you're leaving him?"

Toris shook his head, "No, no. I didn't bring this up earlier because a lot of people who are coping want a sense of normalcy, and changing therapists may not have been a great idea, and I want you to keep that in mind. But, I know many others who specialize in personal loss, and can point you in the right direction."

Francis didn't know what to say, for Toris was really the only hope in this situation, but finally he met him in the eyes again, his throat becoming dry, "But you've always been able to help him…"

Toris gave a kind, sympathetic smile as he reached over and put his hand on his shoulder, "This is completely your decision, and if you do seek someone else out, and Matthew wants to visit me, my door is always open."

Again, Francis didn't know what to say, so he said nothing at all, he just looked down in thought. In all honesty, he had no idea what he should do.

"And, I can always get a hold of Feliks," Toris added, playing with his wedding ring, "We're still pretty close."

He would have to figure this out later, perhaps Arthur could help. Turning away, Francis said, "Thanks. I'll consider it."

"You're welcome. And, Francis?" Toris called, stopping Francis in his tracks out the door, "I know I'm a child psychologist, but if you ever need someone to listen, you're always welcome."

Francis forced another smile before leaving without another word.

…

…

"What am I going to do with you?" Francis sighed as he got his house keys out. To no surprise, Matthew said nothing as he stared down at his feet. Concluding that his question was rather rude, Francis sighed again and bent down, trying to make eye contact. Matthew would have it, but Francis spoke anyway, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that I-... Papa's just exhausted, that's all." Francis hesitated, giving Matthew a chance to say something before kissing him on the forehead and unlocking his door.

He walked into his house to find Arthur reading a book on the couch. Looking at the front cover, Francis realized that he didn't remember Arthur getting that book, "Where did you get that?"

Arthur looked up from the page, "Hmm?"

"The book." Francis clarified, "Where did you get it?"

"At the bookstore?" Arthur answered sarcastically.

Francis rolled his eyes, "I figured. When?"

"When I was out with Lain yesterday."

Francis hummed in thought as he set his keys and wallet on the coffee table, "I don't remember you mentioning that…"

Arthur gave an irritable expression, "Is there a problem?"

Francis sat down on the couch next to him, "Well, you have been reading a lot lately."

They were both silent for a long moment as Arthur seemed to study him, as if he were searching for something. Finally Francis couldn't take the staring anymore, "What?"

Arthur closed his book and turned to him with a small crooked smile, "Let's go out tonight."

"Go out?" Francis asked, for it seemed pretty random.

Arthur shrugged, "Yeah, just you and me. Let's go on a date."

Francis sighed again, "I'm not in the mood."

Arthur paused, "C'mon, it's been a while. We can get Ludwig to babysit and-"

Francis interrupted him nearly speaking through his teeth, "I am not bothering Ludwig."

"Okay," Arthur continued, as if it wasn't a big deal, "Then Lain can."

Francis leaned forward and massaged the bridge of his nose, "Do you ever think that maybe your brother has a life in Scotland?"

Arthur gave him a long look, "Francis, please, it's been almost a week since I've been out of the house. I'm so cooped up, and I think we both deserve a few hours of a break, don't you?"

"'You need to go out.'" Francis paraphrased as he stood, "You sound like a dog." He meant for the statement to sound like he was teasing, but he could help the emptiness in his voice.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Arthur asked, audibly prepared to defend himself in some sort of argument.

Francis covered his face with his hands before dropping them at his sides, "I'm sorry, it was a poor joke." He then gestured to his partner and the couch, "Do you need help off the couch? Because I'm going to head for a nap."

Arthur looked thrown, "We are in the middle of a conversation."

"I said I wasn't in the mood." Francis restated.

"That doesn't mean that you shouldn't!" Arthur said, raising his voice a little, "Getting out and feeling human will help."

Francis narrowed his eyebrows, "Help with what?"

Arthur closed his eyes briefly before making eye contact, "Don't tell me that you're not grieving, because weather you know it or not, you are."

Francis nodded unsure of his next statement, "I know. I am. But, I'm okay. I'm just tired and worried about Matthew."

Arthur studied him again, "Okay…" He said, not sounding fully convinced, but convinced enough to drop the subject, "I'll wake you in an hour then?"

Francis nodded, "Thank you."

Francis then walked down the hallway, into his room, got into his sweats and tshirt, laid in bed, and didn't sleep…

…

_That Night_

…

_You sound like a dog._

Arthur laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as those few words rang in his ears, trying to figure out what they meant.

To but in a simple definition, a dog is a faithful and loyal companion that is too dumb and too incapable to care for itself, therefore, it relies on others. Is that all he was? A dog? To go through the checklist, yes, he was a very loyal and faithful partner to Francis. He would never dream of not being so, even if given the chance. He had his morals and values, and respect for his partner and family was on the top of the list. Dumb and incapable? Well, his memory had been lacking since the crash, but that wasn't his fault, was it? Yes. Yes it was. If only he had been more observant, perhaps this would have never have happened. But it did, and it left him wheelchair-bound, nearly blind, and a slower mind. In other words, incapable. Nothing but a burden.

_Nothing but a burden._ Wow, it had been a long time since that thought entered his mind, along with the following thought: _Something that they're better off without._

_You're overthinking._ Some inner-voice told him. A fact that was true, and the more he recalled others telling him that, the more he convinced himself that he was right, he was thinking too much. Francis obviously didn't mean that when he said "_You sound like a dog."_ To be honest, Arthur did ask to go out, and Francis' joke would have been funny if he sounded like he was joking… But he didn't, which meant that maybe he did mean what he said.

But not even that made sense. If Francis had a negative opinion, whether it would hurt Arthur's feelings or not, he would have said it outright. Maybe it might had been sugar-coated, but he wouldn't use a metaphor unless he was purposely being overdramatic to be funny.

So, in sum, Arthur convinced himself that he was nothing but a burden after Francis said something that Arthur still had no idea what it meant.

Brilliant.

Arthur sighed as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair, looking over at the other side of the bed where Francis laid, his back to him. After a long pause, Arthur spoke quietly, knowing that the Frenchman was awake due to the tossing and turning moments earlier, "Francis?"

After a moment, Francis sighed, "Hmm?"

Arthur hesitated to gather his thoughts, "Can I ask you something?"

"_Quoi?"_

Arthur chewed at his bottom lip a little before speaking, "What did you mean earlier?"

Francis shifted his legs under the blankets, "You're going to have to be more specific."

"When you said that I was like a dog." Arthur clarified.

Francis rolled onto his back and turned his head to him, his eyes half open, "Oh, uh, you said that you hadn't been out of the house for a while, and it kinda sounded like a dog," He explained, a tired smile forming on his lips, "You know, since a dog needs to go out and burn off energy once or twice a day?"

"Oh…" Arthur breathed softly before taking a moment to word his next statement carefully, "I always considered dogs as a burden…"

Francis turned his head back to the ceiling as he closed his eyes, "That's why I got you a cat, _Cher."_ He said through a yawn.

"Because you don't like dogs?" Arthur asked.

Francis turned back with a puzzled look, "Because _you_ don't like dogs. You told me so during a game of 'Questions'."

"So you prefer dogs?" At this point, Arthur had no idea where these questions were coming from.

Francis blinked at him, "No… I like cats, dogs are too loud." He answered awkwardly. Arthur was just about to ask another question, but Francis interrupted him, rolling over onto his side to face him completely, "Why are you asking me all these questions?"

Arthur considered to back out while he was still beating around the bush be decided against it, "Would you consider a dog a burden?"

Francis seemed confused by the question, but answered anyway, "I guess."

"Then why would you compare me to one?" He finally asked, his voice raising slightly.

Francis stared at him for a long moment, obviously trying to figure out what to say, "We have been laying in bed for three hours, Arthur. Is this all you've been thinking about?"

Arthur lifted his head off the pillow to look at the clock, and sure enough, it had been just over three hours. He laid his head back down and looked at Francis, "That's not my point!" He exclaimed quietly.

Francis sighed, "Arthur, it was just a joke."

"Sure didn't sound like it." Arthur countered.

Francis opened and closed his mouth before simply asking, "What do you mean?"

"The flat, blunt tone in your voice." Arthur explained, "It didn't sound like your usual teasing.

Francis looked off for a moment, seemingly to visit the memory from earlier that day, "I don't know what else to say, _Cher,_ it was just a joke. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. The whole predicament with Toris was still on my mind, so maybe it came out more serious than what I meant to. I'm sorry, and I'm sorry that it's been keeping you up.

Arthur searched for a lie in Francis' features, but nothing hinted towards one, and the apology seemed so sincere and genuine, and for a short, splendid moment, he felt better.

_Doesn't matter, I'm still a burden._

"How could you say that?" Francis breathed, his voice laced with disbelief.

Arthur felt himself tense as he realized that he had mumbled that out loud. He stared at Francis as the Frenchman stared at him back, waiting for an answer. "Do I have to answer that?" Arthur whispered.

At that, Francis simply said: "Please."

Arthur took a long pause to break down the rest of the wall of fake pride that he had put up in the last few months, "I'm dumb and incapable."

Francis seemed thrown off by the statement, "How?"

Arthur found himself stumbling on his words and stuttering, "My memory, I-I for-forget things and I-I-"

Francis interrupted him, "Arthur, you suffer from a traumatic brain injury, that is not your fault." He assured.

"The car wreck was!" Arthur argued, feeling tears sting his eyes a little.

"A drunk driver ran a stop sign, that wasn't your fault either."

"That doesn't matter!" Arthur said, realizing that who to blame was not his point, "I am wheelchair bound and legally blind! On top of the memory and spacing out I-"

"_Arthur."_ Francis whispered, his French accent thickening so much that he pronounced the name in its French version, the vowels rolling of the other man's tongue, and the syllabus breaking down differently. Strangely, Arthur liked it, and it stopped his rant short.

Francis then hushed him as he wrapped his arms around him, running his fingers through his hair. After a short moment, Francis spoke softly, "You're right. It doesn't matter. None of that matters. None of that matters to me, Matthew, or Alfred. We did not sit by your bedside for three years just to throw you away, or think of you like you're a burden, because you're not. We love you, and nothing can change that. That's what matters, Arthur."

Arthur took a shaking breath to regain his composure as he took the words in. These thoughts of his came to him every now and then, even in the happier moments in his life, but never had he expressed it, and to be honest, he had never heard kinder words from someone else. Finally beginning to calm down, Arthur tightened his hold on Francis before whispering, "Thank you."

…

_November, 3 years ago_

…

"_Oh, cool, you're here!" Doctor Ralph said as he walked in, closing the door behind him, "I was just about to run some tests."_

_Feeling his shoulders slouch in disappointment, Francis stood up to leave so he wasn't in the way, "Will they take long? I have to pick up my son from school soon."_

_Doctor Ralph waved him off, making his way over to Arthur's monitor, "Nah, won't take long. You can stay if you want."_

_Francis shrugged and sat back down before taking Arthur's hand in his again, "What tests?"_

"_Awareness tests." Doctor Ralph answered as he wrote something down on his clipboard._

"_Can't you do that by looking at brainwaves?" Francis asked, still a bit unsure about how brainwaves worked._

"_Well…" Ralph looked up to the ceiling in thought before dropping his sight back to Francis, "Sort of. But sometimes they can be misleading. Sometimes brainwaves will tell us that the patient should be awake when they aren't, or visa-versa."_

_Francis narrowed his eyebrows, hoping that he was gathering the information right, "So, this is to make sure that his awareness is consistent with his brainwaves?"_

_Ralph put his pen in his pocket and set down his clipboard, "Yes, that, and we need to know what stimuli he responds to, if he responds to any."_

_Realizing that he didn't have any other questions, or he didn't know what to ask, Francis just nodded, and watched Ralph work. The man took out a pin and pointed it at his own palm, clicking a small button on the side that turned on a small light on the end. Ralph then walked up to Arthur, opened his eyes, and shined the light in his face._

_Francis leaned forward to get a better look before his heart sunk when Arthur's eyes didn't react. Francis rubbed Arthur's hand nervously, "Can-can he see?"_

_Ralph switched the pin from eye to eye a few times before answering, "His eyes aren't responding to light." He said as he closed Arthur's eyes again and picked up his clipboard to write something down, "He hit the back of his head hard on something during the crash, so I'm not surprised that his sight would be impaired."_

"_How impaired?"_

_Ralph shook his head, "I don't know, that is something that we will find out when he wakes. If he were simply unconscious, then the answer would be easier to find, but comas are still so strange to doctors, we are still learning about them and clearing misconceptions everyday."_

_Ralph then put the clipboard down again and turned back to Arthur, waving Francis to come closer. Francis stood and leaned over his Englishman just as he was asked. Ralph raised his hand and began to press his fingernail into Arthur's skin, right above the bridge of his nose._

"_I don't think you should-" Francis suddenly cut himself off when he saw Arthur's eyebrows narrow slightly, and his eyes move under his eyelids. Francis' mouth fell open, "He's-he-what does that mean?" He demanded, truly amazed._

_Ralph smiled, reaching for his papers again, "It means that he responds to painful stimuli, and judging by how light I was pressing, probably all physical ones as well."_

_Francis looked down to Arthur again to see him relaxed, "Is that good?"_

_Ralph chuckled, finishing his notes on the test, "Yes, the more responsive he is, the better."_

_Francis smiled, already feeling more hope, imagining how it would be when Arthur finally woke up, not even concerning himself with the usual "if" questions. But, before his daydreams got too far, the sound of Ralph blowing up a balloon snapped him out of his thoughts._

"_What are going to test with that?" Francis asked._

_Ralph tied off the end of the balloon and pulled out his pen again, "His responsiveness to auditory stimuli." He answered, walking up to Arthur's bed before slowly pressing the tip of the pen into the balloon._

_Francis turned his attention to Arthur as he waited. Eventually, the balloon popped, but what surprised him was how much Arthur's body flinched at the sudden sound. Francis let out a breath of laughter in his disbelief, "He jumped!"_

_Ralph hummed in thought, "The reaction was a little late, but it was strong…" He grabbed his clipboard again and began writing._

_Arthur was there. He was trapped in his own mind, but he was there. Feeling the thought give him hope, Francis' smile widened as he brought Arthur's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, "I love you." He said quietly, knowing that Arthur could feel his kiss, and hear his voice._

_Arthur was going to be just fine._

…

…

Arthur isn't feeling like himself, Matthew won't speak, and Alfred got into a fight at school. Why? Why did it always seem that once you make progress, you always back track again? Like the work you had done didn't even matter? Francis had worked so hard. He smiled through the pain to keep his brother's spirits up when their grandfather died, he had to move to a different country just to get over his wife's death, he was patient with Matthew and got him to be more comfortable in life, gave gentle lectures to Alfred about getting into fights while Arthur was in the coma, and comforted Arthur through his recovery, and for what? Just for something out of his control to send the plane down into a tailspin.

_It's going to be okay,_ Francis reassured himself, but how? He was out of ideas, everyone was. They all going through their lives as usual, pretending that nothing was wrong, but there was. Everyone was in reverse, but pretending they were driving.

Well, not _everyone_. Francis was fine. He was worried and stressed, but he was fine. He'll figure something out, he always does. He'll figure out a way to help his family. Once his family was happy, he would be happy.

It'll be alright. They'll get through it. They always do. They've been through worse, right? He was fine. They would be fine.

Francis sighed, _Yeah, keep telling yourself that…_

…

…

…

…

Translations:

None this time! If you spot one I missed, tell me. Remember: I don't translate words that I have translated in previous chapters.

Author's Note:

So, a few chapters back I said that you would see Drac, but Toris was going to be a honorable mention, well apparently I switched the two. Sorry, for the Romania fans, but good for you Lithuania fans! Also, sorry for the long wait, I had a little bit of writer's block, then when I figured it out, I had little time to write with work and classes.

P.S. If you're following _Parallel History_, then you're in luck! I'm finally gonna update it!


	18. Chapter 18

…

_Mid-October_

…

According to doctors and studies, the most painful thing that anyone could experience would be something along the lines of breaking a femur, or getting shot in the gut, but neither of those about to anything when compared to the pain someone gets when they have failed a loved one.

This feeling had never happened to Francis before until recently, because in every tragedy, he had been helpless to the situation. He didn't set the apartment fire while he lived in France, and there was no way he could say that he was able to help Joanne, because the only difference between him and Joanne time was that the firemen got Francis breathing again. A few years later, the car crash happened, and Francis knew that it wasn't his fault either.

What was different was that he did have power in this situation. Matthew was his son, and if there was anything in this world that could break the boy's silent spell, it would be him. Alfred was like a son to him, and if there was anyone that could calm the ten-year-old down, it would be him. Arthur was the love of his life, and if there was anyone on this planet that would help him with his slow, but recent weight loss, and lack of enthusiasm for physical therapy, it would be him.

Each were in their own agony, and yet no matter what Francis did, nothing helped. The school keeps punishing Alfred for his misbehavior, and as Francis has noticed, it doesn't help. So, the solution was to talk to the school about it, but they have to treat each student "equally" which means that no matter what is going on in Alfred's head, or his situation at home, he gets punished the same as the snooty rich kid who pulls on the girls pigtails.

Arthur, on the other hand, slowly lost weight within the past month or so. It wasn't drastic or serious, but they had to keep an eye on it to be sure it didn't continue. Meanwhile, Arthur has skipped out on a few physical therapy sessions, and hasn't been practicing what he can at home as often. In fact, Francis had to force him to practice a handful of times. Francis doesn't know what's going on in the Brit's head, and he would love to, but Arthur has refused to talk about it. Francis has even got a few snappy "Leave me alone's" and "Drop it's" when the subject was brought up.

The only saving grace is Toris, who, has made some progress. Matthew hasn't spoken yet, but he has been showing more emotions, and sometimes, Francis will be talking to the boy, and he can see that Matthew _wants_ to say something, but _won't_. He's so close, but Francis can't help but feel like he could be doing more, and if he had in the past, Matthew would be talking already. Perhaps he should speak with Toris at the end of Matthew's appointment. Which should be at any moment.

Francis tired to mindlessly flip through some magazines in the waiting room, but the minutes still passed like hours until Toris' door opened. Francis sat forward in his chair and took Matthew's hands in his own, "How did it go?" Matthew only shrugged in reply.

"It went very well." Toris said encouragingly from his doorway before looking to Francis, "May I speak to you for a moment?"

Francis nodded, "I'll be right back," He said to Matthew as he handed over one of the magazines to him, "Why don't you look at this while I'm gone? I think there's a 'Spot the difference' puzzle in it."

Once Matthew sat down and started looking through the magazine, Francis followed Toris into his office, but before Toris could bring up what he wanted to talk about, Francis decided to get his questions answered, "May I ask you a question?"

Toris started to go through one of his cabinets, "Of course, Francis, that's what I'm here for." He assured, glancing at him of his shoulder.

Francis closed his eyes briefly, collecting his thoughts, "Is there _anything_ else I can do on my end?"

Toris pulled a drawstring bag from the cabinet and turned back around, "Regarding Matthew?" He asked.

"_Oui_."

Toris gave a kind smile, "Oh, Francis, don't worry about your end, you are already doing so much." He rounded to the front of his desk and leaned against it, "All you have to do is let him know that you're there for him, that you love him, and that he can tell you anything, even if he chooses not to."

"And don't pressure him into talking, or he will resent me." Francis added, reciting Toris' words from an earlier session.

"Yes." Toris agreed. He was silent for a moment before speaking again, "If I may ask, was Arthur able to speak right after he woke from his coma?"

Francis sighed in exasperation, "No, but that wasn't he fault, he wasn't aware enough at the time."

"Mental health and physical health should be viewed in the same way." Toris said slowly, "Depression and anxiety shouldn't be seen as flaws in personality, but as chronic illnesses." When Francis said nothing as the words sunk in his head, Toris continued, "What I'm trying to say is that you have just as much control over Matthews mutism, as you have when Arthur was unable to speak. What is different is the treatment, and that's why we're both here, isn't it?"

Francis paused before shrugging helplessly, "I suppose."

Toris nodded in approval, "Good, anything else?"

Francis ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath, "There's something else, but it can wait. I'll get around to it before I leave."

"If you say so." Toris said, switching topics, "I got a little peek into Matthew's head today."

Francis began to feel hope again, "Did he speak to you?" He asked cautiously.

Toris' smile dropped a bit, "Well, no."

"Then, what do you mean?"

At that, Toris simply hand over the drawstring bag. Giving Toris a strange look, Francis opened it up and peered into it. In it were five small, plastic toys. "Have you seen the movie _Inside-Out_?" He heard Toris say as Francis reached into the bag and pulled out Fear, a character he could really identify with right now.

"Yes." Francis answered after a moment.

"The movie opened up doors in psychology that we didn't even know we had when it came out. Especially child psychology." Toris began to explain, "Children have a hard time knowing and understanding what exactly is going on in their heads, their changes in behavior, and the treatment they are given, and at the very least, these characters help me explain those things to the kids. In our case, they help Matthew express his emotions. He wouldn't speak, but he would point to the toys that represented what he felt."

Francis looked up from the toy and to the other man, "What did you find out?"

Toris paused for a short moment, "He's sad about Gilbert's death. We knew that, but he expressed it, and that's the important part. There was something that surprised me, though."

"What?" Francis asked eagerly.

"He's angry at you." Toris answered simply.

Francis took a moment to think about that. He tried to run through all the possible explanations, but couldn't come up with any. Eventually he gave up, looking back down to Fear, "Why would he be mad at me?" He wondered out loud.

Toris shook his head, "I don't know. Like I said, he wouldn't speak. He may not have a reason," He pointed out, "Anger is part of the grieving process, and he may just be taking it out on you irrationally."

Francis got the feeling that last part was supposed to be comforting, but it wasn't. In the end, Matthew felt that Francis had failed him somehow, and that's all that mattered. Francis sighed, setting Fear back into the bag and pulling the strings to close it, "Now what?"

"Keep the toys." Toris responded, "Give them to Matthew, and tell him to take them wherever he goes. He might not use them, but we should give him the chance to." When Francis merely nodded in understanding, Toris continued, "Do you have any questions?"

"No." Francis answered quickly, beginning to leave, "Thank you."

"Didn't you have something else for me?" Toris said, gaining his attention again.

Francis turned back around, "Right, umm…" He took a moment to think, "Alfred has been misbehaving at school."

"How so?"

"Getting in trouble with the teacher," Francis started, "Refusing to do assignments, and even getting into a few fights."

Toris pulled his eyebrows together, "That's very strange, given the way Matthew has talked about him in the past. What about at home?"

"He's irritable." Francis answered, "The school punishes him, but it's only making it worse. I was wondering that maybe I could bring him to you." He finally got to his point, "He doesn't need punishment, he needs help coping."

"Is he being bullied?" Toris questioned.

"No."

At that, Toris frowned, "Francis, I told you this a few weeks ago, I specialize in child abuse cases. I can point you in the-"

Francis interrupted him, too angry to hear the rest of what he had to say, "Yes, but Alfred has sat in the waiting room with me during Matthew's appointments, he's met you and is familiar with you. What about normalcy? Wasn't that important?"

Toris let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand over his face and crossing his arms, looking at the ground in thought, "I'm flattered at the amount of trust you have in me, but-"

Francis cut him off again, his voice beginning to sound desperate, "I trust you because you've always been able to help, you're the only chance of making this right."

Toris paused, seemingly to collect his thoughts, "I don't 'make things right', if I did, I could bring Gilbert back from the dead." He said. It was a blunt statement, but his voice made it sound lighter than it really was, "I help kids cope with abuse. If I could 'make things right', I'd go back in time and made sure they had a real childhood, but I can't because, like everyone else, I'm stuck in the present."

Francis was on the verge of crying, and now, he was just begging, "Toris, _please…_"

Toris gave him a long look before sighing in defeat, "Do Alfred and Matthew express a lot of sibling rivalry?"

The question seemed pretty random, but Francis answered it anyway, "No, they get along great, and don't really fight for attention."

Toris answered with a follow-up question, "What about in the past? Before Matthew's mutism?"

Francis shook his head, "Not at all."

Toris nodded, "In cases of sibling rivalry, it's better if they both had separate therapists, so they're not fighting over attention of one therapist. But, since that is not the case, I will speak with Alfred."

Francis let out a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank you. When's the earliest I can schedule?"

"Uhh," Toris then rounded his desk and sat in his chair. He then grabbed his computer mouse and started clicking as he stared at the screen. After a few moments, he finally said, "Tomorrow at 10:30 AM."

It was during school hours, but Francis decided if mental health should be viewed like physical health, then he should treat this like a normal doctor appointment. Besides, Alfred would be thrilled that he would get to miss the first part of the school day. "We'll be there."

Toris only nodded, clicked his mouse a few times, and typed on his keyboard a little, "Alright, you're all set."

"Thank you." Francis agreed, "I will see you then."

But, instead of using a parting phrase, Toris said, "There is a question I have for you before you go."

Francis paused, trying to think of what to expect, "What's that?"

Toris turned his computer monitor off and rolled his office chair to the side so Francis could see him better, "Since you are so concerned with normalcy," Toris began, meeting Francis in the eyes again, "May I ask how you practice that in the house?"

Francis swallowed thickly, trying to come up with the best answer he could. Eventually he shrugged, "Keeping things as they were."

Toris nodded in understanding, "So, in other words, pretending like nothing's wrong?"

Francis didn't answer that, he didn't need to, both of them knew that Toris was right. After the long pause, the therapist got to his point, "Achieving normalcy is not going back to the way things were, in your case, that's impossible. Achieving normalcy is coping with and falling in pattern with the storms life has thrown at you." After another long pase as Francis mulled that over, Toris asked, "Are all of you acting as if nothing is wrong?"

At that Francis only nodded.

"Do you love Arthur?"

He was taken by surprise by the question, but Francis answered anyway, "Yes, of course."

"And you feel like he loves you back, and as if you can talk to him about anything?" Toris questioned.

"Yes."

"And you give the impression that he can talk to you about anything?"

Francis rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, what's your point?"

Toris smiled kindly, "Talk to him. Once you two are on the same page, you'll both feel a lot better, and more ready."

The other man let the sentence hang there, and Francis swore he did that on purpose just so he would get more questions like, "Ready for what?"

"Life." Toris said simply, "That's what finding a partner is all about. What love is all about. Finding someone to enjoy life with when it's beautiful, and to team up with when life turns ugly."

Francis gave him a long stare, not expecting for this conversation to turn so philosophical. Eventually, he inhaled slowly and said, "Thank you."

Toris' smile widened, "So talk to him. In the meantime, I will see you tomorrow, yes? Unless you need anything else?"

Francis shook his head, somewhat in trance by the therapist's words, "No. I'll-I'll see you tomorrow."

Toris nodded, turning his computer monitor on again, "Drive home safe."

"Yes, you too." Francis said, heading out the door with the drawstring bag in his hand.

…

_The Next Day_

…

Alfred didn't like the idea of someone picking at his brain, so he wasn't going to let Toris do that. The appointment was only an hour long, and maybe if he just went along and half-assed his way through it, he wouldn't have to do it again. He told Matthew this last night, but, although he didn't say anything, he looked quite offended, so maybe it wouldn't work out like Alfred thought. Oh well, he would try anyway.

"Alfred."

Alfred looked up to the clock on the wall that read 10:30 sharp. He had to give it to the man, he was punctual. He then gave an uneasy look to Francis and Dad, who only gave encouraging smiles. "I don't wanna go." Alfred said to them.

"Go." Dad said in a reassuring tone, "You'll feel better."

"But I'm not sick." Alfred argued.

"Go, Alfred." Dad ordered, a little firmer this time, but still trying to be nice about it.

Alfred sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to win. He got up from his chair and walked to Toris' office. The man was sitting at his desk, clicking on his computer. Toris looked at him and gave him a kind smile, "Sit anywhere you like."

Alfred looked around the room. There was a table with some chairs over to the left, along with a low bookshelf, and to the right, there were bean bag chairs and some toys. Obviously, he chose the toys over the plain table. If he was here, may as well make it a little fun. So, he sat down in one of the bean bag chairs and waited, picking at the carpet as he did.

It was a minute or two before Toris made his way over and sat down on the floor across from him, "So, how are we today?"

Alfred shrugged, "I'm good, I dunno about you, though."

Toris chuckled a bit, "I'm going well, Alfred."

"Then I guess we're doing good." Alfred responded.

"Yes," Toris agreed before getting on topic, "Now, Francis tells me-"

That's when Alfred remembered that Toris was here to pick at his brain, so he interrupted the man, deciding to be up-front about it, "Can you at least tell me what you're doing before you do it?"

Toris paused, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Picking at my brain." Alfred clarified, "Could you at least tell me what you're doing first?"

Toris smiled and nodded, "Oh, yes. What we're going to do today is get to know each other, and within the next few appointments, we will do some talk therapy. Do you know what that is?"

Alfred shook his head, "No."

"It's when you just talk to me about anything. What's troubling you, or your wishes and goals." Toris explained, "Sometimes I will give a subject to talk about, but some days, I'm just here to listen. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

It certainly didn't sound that bad. Not at all like what you see in the movies. In the movies, only crazy people talked to doctors like Toris, but then again, Mattie wasn't crazy, and he talked to Toris all the time. Deciding that the situation wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, Alfred shrugged again, "I guess not."

"Good." Toris said, picking up a clipboard that he had set down at his side, "I have some 'get to know you' questions for you, they are much like the ones you do in the beginning of the school year. I will ask a question, and we will both answer it. Okay?"

Alfred nodded in understanding, "Okay."

Toris glanced at his clipboard before meeting Alfred in the eyes, "So, Alfred, where are you from?"

Alfred didn't expect that question. After all, the man did know that he lived in the area because of Mattie's visits here. Nevertheless, Alfred answered, "Oh, I live like ten minutes away. But, I was born in London," He added, thinking maybe that was what the question was really about, "Dad tells me that they were on holiday there without my grandparents knowing, and I decided to arrive a week early."

Toris gave another chuckle at the bit of humor and started writing things down. After a moment, Alfred turned the question on him, excited to hear the answer due to the man's light accent, "So, where are you from?"

Toris finished what he was writing and looked up at him again, "I'm from Lithuania."

Alfred thought for a moment, the place sounded familiar, but he could picture it on a map, "What's that?"

"It's a country over by Russia and Poland." Toris answered.

"Oh."

There was a short silence as Toris seemed to wait for any further questions before moving on, "Is there any other place you'd rather live, real or imaginary?"

That was a bit of a creative jump from the last question, but Alfred liked how he had to actually think about it. He would love to live in a world with superheroes, but crazy things always happened, so maybe it wasn't the best choice. Alfred then realized that the world that he would like to live in was simple, but he didn't want to say it because he rather not bring Toris down. Then again, Toris wasn't his family, and he was here to help. Not to mention that you should never lie to a doctor. So, a bit embarrassed by expressing his emotions, he casted his eyes to the ground, and was honest, "A world where Mattie speaks again."

Toris nodded, and gave a sad smile before going back to writing things down, "Thank you for your honesty, Alfred."

"Wha-what about you?" Alfred asked, wanting to get off the subject.

"I came here to go to college, and ended up falling in love with the country, and my current husband, so I think I'm pretty happy where I am," Toris began to explain, "But, I do tend to get homesick from time to time. Living in a different country is strange, you never really get used to it."

"Maybe you should go to Lithuania on holiday. Maybe this Christmas, or in the summer." Alfred offered.

"I'll have to think about it." Toris said before looking at his list of questions, "Alright, what makes you happy?"

Alfred wasn't hard to please, so his answer was quick, "Going to dinner with my family. What about you?"

"Very similar," Toris started as he wrote, "Being with my husband." After another short silence, he went on, "What makes you angry?"

So, they were back to expressing emotions. Alfred didn't like the sound of this, but he may as well get it over with, "When I don't understand what's happening. You?"

"When I get ignored." Toris said simply, and Alfred could understand. It must be frustrating to give advice just for someone not to take it to heart. Especially for a doctor like him. Toris then continued, bringing Alfred out of his thoughts, "What relaxes you?"

"Sitting down and watching a movie." Alfred said, "Bonus points if it's a superhero movie. What's relaxing to you?"

Toris sighed and looked up, seemingly trying to find a way to explain it, "When it's really cold outside, but I'm inside by the fireplace, eating warm soup." There was a pause until he added, "Bonus points if it's raining gently."

Alfred laughed lightly as Toris wrote some things down. When finished, he continued with the next question, "What makes you sad?"

"I think it takes me a lot to make me sad," Alfred said in a bit of pride, "But I get really sad when my dad or Francis are… What about you?"

Toris took a moment to think, "My husband is really upbeat and optimistic, so if he's down, and I can't cheer him up makes me sad."

Alfred nodded awkwardly, and Toris went back to his clipboard. After a moment, he asked the question that Alfred wished he hadn't, "What is your biggest fear?"

Alfred felt his own expression drop. His first answer that came to mind would be snakes. But this seemed to be much like the question about what world he would like to live in. Perhaps he would have to think a little more than that. When dad was in the coma, he was afraid of losing him forever, but there was one thought that crossed his mind one night when he couldn't sleep, and it scared the living hell out of him.

Alfred must have been taking too long or looking like he wasn't going to answer, because Toris offered his first, "My biggest fear is losing a loved one."

Alfred took a deep breath, reminding himself that he could trust Toris, "When my dad was in the coma, my biggest fear wasn't losing him, but forgetting about him if I did lose him."

"I think everyone fears that to some extreme." Toris said, offering some comfort that didn't really help, "The last question is: Do you feel as if you can express your emotions at home?"

Alfred shrugged, "Not really."

"Why not?"

"Well, no one pressured me not to, or scolds me about it." Alfred explained, "I'm just… Usually happy and silly, and I don't want to worry anyone. They have enough to worry about."

Toris nodded again, writing it down. A few seconds passed, and he put down the clipboard, looking Alfred in the eyes with another kind smile, "Alfred, you may not know it, but you are troubled, which is okay, never think that it isn't, because life is complicated. But, you are here so I can help you, and I will." He continued, "I will help you cope with Matthew's mutism, and I will help you understand what is happening around you so you can counter you family's sadness, and your fear of forgetting. Because even if you don't feel like you can tell others at home what going on in your head, you can always tell me. And I will always help you with it."

Toris' words left Alfred nearly speechless. The amount of assurance and safety that Alfred felt was indescribable, but he could feel his throat go dry as tears of relief blurred his vision a bit. But, instead of letting the tears fall, Alfred just whispered, "Thank you."

…

_A few days later…_

…

Arthur had been too sore to practice his physical therapy today, or even go to the appointment. Or, at least that's what he told Francis, just like a few weeks ago, he told Francis that Lain had canceled last minute, so he couldn't go, because Francis was out doing errands at the time. But, even with those less than true reasons, Arthur could see some uneasiness in Francis' eyes, and he was beginning to realize that he couldn't hide behind those excuses forever, even if he wished he could.

He was going to get it. It felt like one of those moments when he knew he was doing something wrong, and so did his mother, but he also knew that the reason she hadn't brung it up yet was because she was collecting her thoughts on the argument, but it was only a matter of time before she ripped him a new one. But, instead of his mother, it was with Francis, and he knew he was going to bring it up soon, because he had been a little quieter than usual.

Arthur sat cross-legged on the bed, petting Black Jack while the cat purred. He looked up at the closed bathroom door, where Francis was getting ready for bed. Surely the Frenchman wouldn't bring it up now, just before going to sleep, and surprisingly, Arthur found himself dreading that fact. He wanted to get it over with. The suspense was killing him. But, that's not really how these situations go. He was the one in the wrong, and even if he agreed and compromised in the argument, it was Francis' job to bring up the subject, right? Not to mention that Arthur shouldn't force Francis into talking about something when he's not ready.

Then again, they hadn't been doing a whole lot lately. Laziness and procrastination was a new theme in the household. So, maybe some mid-ground? If Francis wasn't going to get to it himself, then maybe Arthur could try to get him to. Arthur hated beating around the bush, but if he was too up-front, then Francis' stubbornness would get in the way, and nothing would get done.

Francis then walked out of the bathroom, pulling Arthur out of his thoughts. The Frenchman made his way over to the bed, taking the ribbon out of his hair. Black Jack got up and ran over to Francis' side of the bed, waving one of his paws in the air. "_Non,_" Francis scolded, putting the ribbon in the nightstand drawer, "You're not playing with it, you have cat toys for a reason." He then sighed when the cat curled up on his pillow, "Back Jack, I'm using that!" He exclaimed quietly, beginning to get into bed.

"Francis?" Arthur said, trying to get his attention.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Are you doing okay?" Arthur asked, "You seem a little put-off."

Francis tried to shoo the cat off of his pillow, "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow."

"You can't sleep when something's on your mind, Francis, and you know it." Arthur stated.

Francis gave a frustrated sigh, "You want to open this up now? Before bed?"

Realizing that Francis was angrier than what Arthur expected, he prepared himself for a full argument, "Better than pretending that nothing's wrong."

For a reason unknown to Arthur, those words seemed to delayed Francis' response, and even take some of the anger away, "You're slacking on you physical therapy." He finally said, his anger building up again, "Those are the only people that can help you recover, and you're not doing the exercises at home, and you're not going to the appointments."

"What does it matter?" Arthur asked in an exhausted tone, letting the words from his doctor from a couple months ago come into play.

Francis seemed thrown, "What are you talking about? Did I even hear you right? I thought that getting back to a healthy physical condition was important to you!"

"It is but-"

"But what?"

Arthur shrugged, "There isn't much more strength for me to achieve."

Francis rolled his eyes, "What are you talking about? Last time I checked, you didn't walk into the room and go to bed, or perhaps I missed something?"

Arthur glanced away, trying to find an easy way to remind Francis of the problem with that, "Francis, I'm not walking again."

Francis' expression of anger turned to confusion, then to understanding, "I know this is taking time, Arthur, but it's going to be a long recovery, we both knew that when we walked out of the hospital."

"No, Francis," Arthur said, a bit urgently, "I'm not walking again."

Francis tilted his head slightly, "What would give you that impression?"

"Um, my doctor?" Arthur asked sarcastically, as if it were obvious.

Francis looked at hims for a long time, completely still, but after a few seconds ticked by, Francis finally spoke, his voice nearing a whisper, "When did he tell you this?"

Arthur could feel himself pale as he began to doubt his memory, "I-I told you the same day we found out that Gilbert was terminal." When Francis just shook his head, Arthur raised his voice a bit, "Yes I did! I had the doctor appointment, and then Lain drove me home," He began to explain, "When I came into the house, you were crying, and I decided to tell you later because of the devastating news, and I…" Then, it was clear, "I never told you...did I?" He mumbled.

Francis just shook his head again, his expression unreadable. Arthur looked down to the blankets, actually feeling pain in his chest from the amount of disappointment in himself. Before he could wallow in self-hate, however, Francis spoke again, "I don't understand. You don't have any brain damage that would stop you. Learning how to walk again is difficult for adults, I know, but the only thing holding you back is atrophy. Did you get a second opinion from your physical therapist?"

How Francis could just disregard the lack of memory was unbelievable, but then again, to Francis, it wasn't his own fault, so Arthur went a long, "Well, no."

Francis nodded, "That is certainly something that you will do at your next appointment, and even if she agrees with your doctor, you go to the appointments no matter what. You're not throwing all of your progress down the toilet."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Francis shook his head, rubbing his temples, "It's okay, things are...Complicated right now."

Arthur thought he heard movement outside their door, but he decided to ignore it and get onto Francis side of the problems, "What about you?"

"Pardon?"

"You've been acting less than normal lately." Arthur explained.

Francis gave a slight wave of dismissal, "I'm fine. As long as my family is okay, then so am I."

Arthur nodded, knowing exactly what that meant, "So considering my state, Alfred's state, and Matthew's state, I'll take that as a 'no'."

Francis gave a humorless, low chuckle and looked down. He was silent for a moment before his eyes became watery, and he put his head in his hands, letting out a strangled breath, "I'm sorry, I've been trying to keep you guys together, but…"

Arthur moved in close, running his fingers through the frenchman's hair, "Don't apologize. No one said it was your job."

"It's my job to be there for you." Francis murmured through his quiet tears.

"And it's equally my job to be there for you, Francis." Arthur pointed out.

Francis cried softly for a moment before sniffling, "I miss him...And I miss Matthew so much. I miss Alfred's smile, too."

Arthur could feel his throat go dry, but he swallowed thickly in an attempt to keep it together, "I-I-" He started, his voice quivering a bit. He cleared his throat, which helped, "Me too, Francis, but Matthew is getting better, and hopefully, Toris can help Alfred too. In fact, I'm sure of it. Alfred did seem to like him."

Francis just shook his head, crying a little harder, "Why does life do this? Why does it kick you into the dirt just when you get your footing again?"

Francis questioning life's worth was maybe the most painful thing that Arthur ever had to hear. But, he took a shaky breath to keep his composure, "Because life is like a rollercoaster."

Francis scoffed, "Yeah, sure."

"No, really, Francis. Look at me." Arthur only went on with his rant when Francis picked up his head, "Think about it. We go up slowly, and we're talking and laughing, and are excited for the trip ahead of us, then, suddenly we go down, and feels like we're going to go straight through the earth's crust into hell, but we don't. We go up instead, and when we get to the top, it's a beautiful view of the city, and you nudge me, and you say, 'Hey, I can see our house from here!' And I roll my eyes, because I'm like that."

He then grabbed Francis' hand, "Then it all turns around again, and we're going down, but it's okay, because you're holding my hand. Then we get to the end, and our hair is messed up, and we have a headache, but we're laughing because of the adrenaline, and we're hoping that the line hasn't gotten too long because we want to ride it again."

Francis just stared at him, seemingly not knowing what to say, but that was alright, because Arthur came around to his point, "It just takes patience, Francis. You'll see the beautiful city again, and you'll get to make another stupid joke, but right now, we are in a low, and all you need to do is hold my hand. You don't have to pretend you're having fun, you don't have to make sure I don't hit my head on the headrest, I'm fine as long as you hold my hand."

Francis blinked at him a few times, the words slowly sinking in. Then, he took his other hand and patted Arthur's, "Thank you." He said after a long while, nodding slightly, "I'll hold your hand. You'll hold mine?"

"Of course." Arthur assured firmly.

Francis' lips curled into a small smile, and the crying seemed over. Maybe Arthur would go and make some tea to help them calm down more so they could sleep. But, he heard something outside their door again. It sounded like sniffling.

Francis must have heard it too this time, because his eyebrows narrowed and looked over his shoulder at the door. He gave a glance to Arthur before walking over and opening the door, "Matthew? Matthew, what wrong?"

Arthur couldn't see the poor lad in the doorway, but he could see Francis bend down a little to the ten-year-old's level, "It's okay, you can tell me." The was a long silence of nothing but Matthew sniffling and wiping tears. Then, Francis sighed, "C'mon, let's get you back into bed." The Frenchman gave a quick look at him over his shoulder, almost telling Arthur that he'd be right back, before disappearing down the hallway with the boy.

They had a long way to go before going back up and seeing the city again.

…

_The next day…_

…

It had been a long time since Matthew truly felt hurt. So far back, that he can barely remember it. But, Gilbert's death left him broken in many ways.

Gilbert was one of those people in his life who he could talk about anything to. Sure, he had Papa and Toris, but Gilbert always seem to understand him, and give advice that Toris wouldn't give. Like fighting back against a bully a few years ago. He never did, and eventually, the school did take care of the situation, but when Gilbert said, "_Just sock him in the mouth. That'll shut him up. Do it right in front of the teacher. No one will ever mess with you again."_ Matthew felt a sense of power, even if he chose restraint.

But, he didn't have Gilbert's advice anymore, he only had Toris and Papa now, and he couldn't trust them, or Arthur for that matter. It was for a simple reason that Matthew hadn't noticed until Gilbert's death: They are adults, and adults hurt people, some more than others, but they all eventually do. Matthew counts himself lucky that he couldn't remember his father all that well, and when he thinks of his father, Francis usually comes to mind, not the man who beat him. He had broken memories of his first year or so with Papa, and as far back as he could remember, Papa hadn't laid one harmful finger on him. The man had done nothing but expressed gentleness and mercy to him.

Then, Papa lied to him.

Matthew swears that Papa had never lied to him before. He had said things like, "_It's complicated."_ and had given vague information before, but never straight up lied to his face.

The lie was in the lift at the hospital, after Matthew saw Gilbert for the last time, if you don't count the funeral.

"_Is he gonna get better?"_

"Oui, _he'll-he'll be fine."_

Why talk to people who hurt you and gave you nothing but a false sense of relief and hope? It wasn't like Papa didn't know. He confessed that both he and Arthur were aware of what was happening about a week before Gilbert died. It wasn't fair. Matthew knew he deserved to know. What had he done wrong that would cause him not to? Even if he had done something wrong, he was sure that filed under cruel and unusual punishment. The only person that had really helped with his overwhelming and irrational fear of people and the world was dying, and he didn't even know it, all because Papa didn't sit him down and tell him the truth.

So, why speak at all?

Because, life is complicated and confusing, even to adults.

Matthew had gotten up in the middle of his sleep to the sound of voices, and when he went to investigate, he cold hear Papa and Arthur arguing behind their bedroom door. Things then got quiet, and it was nothing but murmuring, until Papa said, "_I miss him...And I miss Matthew so much. I miss Alfred's smile, too."_ and eventually, "_Why does life do this? Why does it kick you into the dirt just when you get your footing again?"_

Matthew did hear Arthur short speech, and after that, he ended up crying. Because he realized that Papa was feeling the pain, too, and through it, he was trying to fix the problem that Matthew blamed him for. That in turn, Matthew was hurting him. _He made Papa cry._

How did he let this happen? How could he be so blind to other people's emotions? How could he lack the empathy that Papa had taught him? Life is difficult, having children is difficult, how could he expect Papa to be perfect, and without mistakes? In the end, Matthew was being selfish.

And then there were Gilbert's last words to him, "_...You be good to Francis and Arthur, you hear?...And you and Alfred look after each other, okay?..."_

Matthew was a wreck, and it was no surprise that Papa noticed. They went to Toris to see if he had anytime for a walk-in appointment. Turns out that he thirty minutes free, which is half of the time that Matthew was used to, but it was better than nothing.

With the toys he was given, Matthew told Toris that he was angry and disgusted with himself. He tried to use Fear to explain that he was afraid that he would never be able to speak to Papa in his shame, and that Papa wouldn't forgive him, even though rationality told him otherwise, but the point didn't come across that well.

In sum, the appointment didn't make him feel any better. He looked down at Sadness, thinking about the film the character was in as he tried to get his mind off of everything. He could remember in the end of the movie, when Riley's parents were hugging her after Joy figured out Sadness' purpose. The moral of the story was not to repress your feelings. Which means he knew what he had to do to feel better.

Matthew clumsily laid his head on the car headrest as he turned he head to look out the window. They stopped at a stoplight, and through the glass, Matthew could almost see the cemetery. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

"Papa?" He asked in a small voice.

Papa was frozen for a few seconds until he turned in his seat, his eyes holding a mix of surprise, relief. He took a long breath before whispering, "_Oui, mon fils?"_

Matthew paused, wondering if he should back out on this. He decided to go through with it, "Can we go see Gilbert?"

Papa nodded gently, "Of course, Matthew...Would you like to pick of some flowers first?"

"Please…" Matthew could feel tears coming on again, "...And I'm sorry."

Papa shook his head, and turned back to the road, "You don't have to be. It's okay."

Later, Papa got into the backseat and wiped his tears in the parking lot. As much as all this hurt, at least Papa was holding his hand.

…

…

…

Translations:

I do not think there are any that I haven't translated before.

Note:

Updates are slower as you can tell. I have come to realize that I shouldn't apologize for it because life is busy right now. But, in sum it was nice to get into Alfred and Matthew's head. I really like this chapter, and I think I wrote it well, it was just a bitch to write! lol


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